Caeser [Fictitious Rome]

I - The Beginning

    The world was black the instant the mask was put over his head - darkness enveloped his eyes, so he shut them tight. A mere slave sent to fight to the death for the enjoyment of thousands in the crowd onlooking, along with the emperor of the land. The gates were opened, and the man staggered out and fell to the course sand. One of the rough guards grabbed him up and shoved a short scabbard into the man's hand. He muttered something along the lines of "get your ass out there, you sorry slave trash". He then pushed the blinded fool into the center of the arena.

    The arena was the prestigious Colosseum, the apex of Roman architecture and with such a simple 360 degree design that it captivated all peoples, giving full view of any battle that went down in the middle. The audience cried a low but deafening boo, as the emperor watched with a dirty stare. The gates of the opposite side opened and a scraggly-bearded man with a trident and a small net lumbered out. He gave a low chortle as the crowd roared in excitement to see yet another fantastic execution of a "filthy animal". This did not intimidate the man right away, but as he heard the 3-pronged weapon fly for him, he attempted a dodge, but failed his feint by a hair.

    His leg had be graced, and a small stream of crimson ran down to his worn sandals. He cried out in pain, and the well-armed man laughed yet again with a lower and deadlier tone. The masked slave did not find it so funny himself though. He felt like a beast inside, his heart pounding at two times a regular rate. With a surge of power, perhaps just adrenaline,a feeling rushed through his veins and he suddenly dug his feet into the granulated floor and thrust forward with the small weapon at an alarming rate, directly at the man's heart. It pierced the man's chest completely, and everything stopped dead. The whole city was quiet. He removed the blade, and the man fell into a pile of flesh, gurgling and drowning in his own blood. The crowd was still dead silent, but all jumped at the screams of the Emperor.

    "What IS this meaning of this? Finish him off, now!" he bellowed. Despite his raging tone, the next warrior fell with extreme ease, and so did the next, and the next, one after another, with single strikes, breaking weapons and shields into bits and destroying the protection flesh, like a red typhoon of human blood. The emperor could not stand to be embarrassed like this, as the crowd was ablaze with chatter. He called for the strongest fighter of them all, one they called "Hugo", who weighed no less than 350 pounds. He was built of muscle, strength, and pure rage, watching his training "mates" die one after another. This was a simple fight for a man with an axe that weigh half as much as he. The slave could feel the power draining, as the burly superman reared back for a crashing head blow that would sever the homeless and pathetic "waste of space" into two halves.

    He braced himself for the blow, knowing that even then, he would surely perish. The axe split his leathery helm into two, but only sliced his cranium's epidermal layer, leaving a small blood trail that went down his face. Hugo was astounded, he'd never seen anything like it. The slave opened his eyes, to see the light once again, but only with one. The other was drowned in blood and he could not see. With his eyesight even slightly back however, he felt the surge come back to his loins and rush through his system once again. It was not adrenaline. It was more black magic than anything, possibly from conception or even birth. The whole stadium was wide-eyed and silent. It felt as if the whole world this time, not just the city, was completely empty.

    The man then pulled such a move it could not be seen by the human eye. At what seemed like the speed of light, he rushed behind the giant beast, a glide that no one could follow. He spun his short sword and gripped it hard as he jammed it into one of Hugo's main arteries, filling yet another warrior with blood, and drowning them in it. He let out a single grunt before his eyes flew into the back of his head, and he landed with a hard thunk on the crimson ocean of sand. Before the emperor could scream words like "witchcraft" and "wizardry", the slave was on top of him. The terror-filled tyrant whispered a single "no" before the now unmasked man replied back in his low voice...

"The victor is me, and I will rule this land we call Rome for now on, with a fair fist. I am Julius Caeser, and you are finished, you swine."

The blade swung across the defeated cur's chest, and it made a lovely new sort of red that not even I can describe. It was almost pitch black it was so vile, but it was over. The fight had been won, and the empire had a new ruler now. A fantastic one, too.

Long Live Caeser.