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The wheel of faces, names, whatever they were, spun.
Sausage, Champion of Hermes.
It was sent spinning again.
Abolish, Champion of Hephaestus.
Ah. Unfortunate.
"This will be a fun fight!" Sausage sounded almost cheerful as he stood before Abolish.
Apo's voice, from the crowd.
"Seems we'll finally put the fire out!"
Abolish inspected his favors. Aeolus. Apollo. Pan, surprisingly enough. Artemis, even more surprisingly. None of them would be useful, though he would have to thank the respective champions later.
Sausage selected his favor, and the fight began.
Abolish drew his sword, attacking immediately. His specialty had always been quick, efficient strikes. Fast on his feet. He'd learned how to add flourishes to make the crowd ooh and ahh. But his normal fighting, unaffected by the arena, was simple and quick. As it was, he added the little flourishes anyways. Sausage had a rough, street-style fighting technique. Abolish had fought a few street urchins brought in as punishment. He was not struggling, per se.
Sausage broke his sword (he should've repaired it before getting in the arena, he'd curse himself later for that). He drew an axe instead, shifting into a defensive style to try and see what he could do now. Sausage cast his next spell, backflipping ten feet into the air over Abolish's head. Abolish took the chance to catch his breath. He looked around for Sausage and spun around a second too late. Abolish cursed himself as Sausage's sword slashed across his chest, sending him stumbling backwards. Just a scratch, but enough to startle him. Fuck. He needed to focus.
"Well, they're putting on a good show," Abolish heard Pyro mumble.
Show. A good show.
Put on a show.
A good show.
Showtime.
Abolish surged forwards with new energy as faces faded, the comments of the champions morphed into cheers from a crowd.
And folks, here's our returning champion, Abolish!
His sword took a chunk of his opponent's arm. Who was he fighting? Just another nameless person fallen to his sword. He'd stopped counting after the first twenty. Too much guilt would distract him from the combat at hand.
Look at him go! What a show!
With great difficulty, Abolish shook himself from his daze, snapping back to the present. It cost him a slice down his leg. He stumbled, looking at Sausage. Every single emotion he'd been holding back—the rage, the annoyance, the sadness, the love, the warmth, the affection, the fear, the stress, the panic, the adrenaline—bubbled up from his chest through his throat. He saw Sausage's smug look, thinking he'd won. Abolish's emotions were like fire in his veins.
Oof, he's taken a hit! Will our champion prevail?
Abolish saw red.
He remembered the first few people he'd killed in the arena. Why the first ones? After his twentieth, he'd learned it was better not to remember, to ignore their faces.
He heard the announcer's voice flooding his ears, the one that haunted his nightmares when he was alive.
Here we go! He's coming back from it! He's recovering!
Blood on his sword.
Another god's favor (Morpheus?) allowing his opponent to go invisible.
Oh, our other fighter never stood a chance!
The crowd cheering.
Apo screaming.
And Abolish wins again!
He found himself breathing heavily as the red haze faded. Sausage was gone, presumably to whatever realm the gods brought their champions before resurrecting them. He was teleported back outside the arena. Before anyone could congratulate him, he ran.
Walking back to the room he stayed in, grabbing a cloth to wipe the sweat from his body.
Running back to his forge, collapsing onto the comforting warmth of magma as he fought back waves of memories.
The only friends he'd had, coming to pat him on the back.
Cleo watching from a distance in goat form.
Their bodies on the floor.
The goat slowly walking away.
Later, when he was in a better state, the others would describe it to him with awe. A greatsword appearing in his hands, lit up with flames that burned so hot they were red— with blue flickering at the tips. Abolish's eyes had lost their natural spark, his face lit with hellish lighting from the red flames. Sausage never stood a chance, they told him.
Abolish didn't remember any of that.
He'd stopped counting kills past the twentieth, after all.