Chapter Text
It's been hours, and I'm not even sure the asshole is alive. I took a final glance over to him, the broken figure huddled on my bed, before returning my gaze to the large beast awaiting me outside. Soon, the Colosseum’s daily trials would begin. Fools would once again flood the arena, anxious for the glory and geo that awaited them.
It was 3 in the morning, an hour before the colosseum opens. For the past several hours, I had been tending to the wounds of the sorry excuse for a warrior I drug up to my home above the peak of Kingdom's edge. He should be eternally grateful for what the hell I’m doing, I thought. Not a soul rather than him has ever entered my world above the Colosseum, no one has glanced upon the empty caverns and beautiful roots that strung it together into a “home.” I don’t know why I chose to make him the first.
When I first saw him lying on the edge, curled up and cradling his cracked shell, I couldn’t help but feel pity. Truly pathetic , I thought, that he didn’t live long enough to face my blade. Few met the challenge. But for the God of the Colosseum to have not even heard of his arrival- Hell, he couldn’t have passed the first trial. I had then faced away, having realized the wonderful shade of blue that caught my eye was merely another fallen warrior. I was ready to leave his side and go home after a long day of fighting. Then, I heard a shift behind me.
Though I whipped around, I knew I had to have misheard. No bug thrown could survive a fall that far. And a weakling like him would most definitely not be the first.
Besides, the corpse looked exactly the same. He was certainly dead, and I knew in that moment that I needed to get home. With the infection just recently reaching the edges of the Kingdom, it was unwise to stay below the colosseum longer than necessary, less I wanted to speed up my own infection’s progression. Yet, curiosity prompted me to kneel at the warriors’ side and press two fingers to his neck. It seemed stupid in the moment, though with no one there to judge me, it couldn’t have hurt to confirm he was truly dead before I took my leave.
He wasn’t.
After that, it was a race to carry the dying warrior upwards past the Colosseum. I didn’t even consider why I was doing it at first; my first instinct was to try and save this one-in-a-million survivor.
Though, as I carried the warrior and leapt up through the Kingdom’s edge, I reconsidered why I, a murderer of thousands, should bother to save a puny bug. I considered leaving the dead to rest. After all, this slain warrior would suffer no harsher a death than anyone else in the Colosseum. No, his death would be merciful by this Kingdom’s standards. At some point during the upwards trek, though, his breath caught in his throat, and he woke. It surprised me the most. He seemed to be in a hazy dream like state, and didn’t know where he was. I’m not sure he even knew I was there. He winced and gripped his chest, and with a throaty groan, he spoke.
“Why…?”
Needless to say, I caste away my doubts and continued my trek. He eventually passed out again, and I rushed home in a panic. I took to wrapping his wounds as soon as I returned.
Despite my best efforts, though, a steady pulse and incoherent mumblings were the only rewards I have yet to reap for my efforts to mend the small bug. And though I felt I needed to keep trying, I couldn't. I reached my hand outside into the foggy mist outside the tent, and my steed moved forward and nuzzled under it with a breathy snort of appreciation. I heard the warrier as he drew his next shallow breath, and made my decision.
He will be okay. But my Colosseum needs me.