Time passed on, cheers erupted, and a howl was heard. Through all of it, Zero was in the damp cell. He had already contemplated the odd words but came to no conclusion. His internal clock said there was still enough time before evening to fit in two more fights. Zero hoped that there would only be one left. One where he could just escape rather than fight. Not because he was scared of dying before escaping, as he had gained some confidence in the past day and a half. But rather because he did not want to take a human life.
He hesitated once and would probably not hesitate again. Even so, he did not know what kind of guilt would be associated with taking another human life. As if timed perfectly to go against his wishes, a guard came to the cell and brought them to the armory. The next fight awaited.
To Zero's dismay, when he looked around, there was no spear in sight. His trusty shield was there, thankfully. Though other than that, all there were swords and axes.
For some other reason, the guard had stayed in the armory with them, so Zero bothered asking: "Are there any, uh, spears I could use?"
The guard just shook his head, then returned to his rigid upright position.
Zero dejectedly looked down and chose a simple, straight sword to go along with his spear. Not too different from the first sword he chose, just a bit longer. As always, Azarax stuck to his slightly curved blade. If Zero had known better, he would've referred to it as a Kriegsmesser. But Zero did not know better. It seemed as if he had only a basic amount of knowledge to function.
Once the bell rang, Azarax and Zero moved towards the entrance to the arena. Oddly enough, this time they were followed by the guard. All the way to the exit. Then, as they entered the arena and Azarax said his noteworthy words…"May our blades strike true," the guard entered the arena too.
Additionally, beside them, standing at the wall of the entrance, was an assortment of guards. All armed with the same standard halberd.
The guard who trailed them spoke: "Champions of Roma, your next battle awaits. There are no more partners of the remaining gladiators, you are the last. Thus, it will be your duty to choose your successor— through combat."
The guard grabbed Zero's arm and dragged him forward. Zero looked back, but was unsure what to say. He could not openly admit their plan to escape, and that plan could not work at the moment. It was not evening, and there were guards positioned all across the arena. Notably, at the damaged wall. So Zero lost his chance to speak. But, Azarax did not.
"May your blade strike true, friend."
It was a long walk to the other side of the coliseum. It was quite large and perhaps a staple of the place they called Roma.
When Zero finally reached the other side of the arena, the guard let go of his firm grip and continued a couple of strides. Then he turned around and brandished his halberd. As if reacting to the mood, the bell rang out, signaling to begin the fight.
Zero entered the fractured plane, but did not see anything of use. With a grimace and the feeling of a sharp halberd behind him, Zero slowly approached the center of the arena.
With one last fleeting hope, he made eye contact with Azarax, then motioned his head to the wall, which would be their escape. Azarax shook his head, then brandished his sword and approached Zero.
'Ah, I'm screwed.'
Zero was quite sure he stood no chance against Azarax, and Zero did not even have his trusty spear. However, he did have his shield. While Azarax had an almost infinite amount more skill than Zero, at the end of the day, he was still just human, probably. Thus, his body was just as fragile as any other less skilled human. So the match would be decided by one hit. Zero subtly unlatched the shield from his arm.
After a long walk, filled with thought and anguish, he entered close to striking range of Azarax. Then, in as swift a motion as he could muster, he hurled the shield straight at Azarax. Then, he lunged forward and performed a large swing with his sword.
In an even swifter motion, Azarax side-stepped the shield, then he raised his blade and parried Zero's wide swing. Zero was thrown off balance by his own sudden attack and tumbled forward with no way to guard himself.
'I'm dead.'
Zero stumbled forward a few more steps, then whipped his head around in surprise, for he was not dead. Azarax was standing in the same spot he was a moment earlier, but now it was too late to capitalize on his chance.
"That was smart, if I had not seen you do that earlier, you might have gotten me. As for the rest of your attack, your swing was too wide and predictable. It should flow with your body, like an extension of it. Come try again."
Zero was not sure what Azarax was getting at. It was a fight to the death, right? Though perhaps Azarax's charades were a show for the crowd. A certain way to guarantee his next fight would be the last of the day.
Zero felt dejected, but it was not like he was going to pass this chance up. He charged Azarax again and swung at his blade. This swing was less wild than the last and subsequently less powerful than the last. This time, however, Zero did not lose his balance, but rather stepped back after his strike.
Azarax disengaged from Zero's initial swing and stayed rooted to the spot.
"Good, that was good, friend. Your defence was still intact. Now it is my turn. When I approach, do not view just my sword, but focus your view on my whole body. Predict my next move."
Zero readied himself and focused broadly on Azarax. As Azarax's body turned and flexed to swing his sword, Zero found himself twisting his blade accordingly. If he had just focused on Azarax's blade, he would have been dead. Lucky for Zero, his prediction was right.
This time, it was Azarax's turn to backstep from Zero's counterattack. Azarax peddled a few extra steps back then spoke.
"You stood your ground well. Now, friend, it is time for us to really begin. May your blade strike true."