The sun hung high over Ul'dah, its heat shimmering across the sandstone streets. Merchants shouted prices over the din of chocobos, adventurers hurried toward guildhalls, and the clang of steel echoed faintly from somewhere deeper within the city. Zack Fair pushed through the crowd, his grin wide, his eyes bright.
"This is it," he muttered, hands on his hips as he stopped at the base of a colossal structure.
The Gladiator's Guild stood tall, a half-coliseum that seemed to hum with history. Its stone walls bore the scars of countless duels, training bouts, and performances. From within, he could already hear the roar of steel on steel, the sharp calls of instructors drilling recruits into shape.
Zack's grin only widened. "Now that's what I'm talking about."
He stepped forward, boots clicking against the smooth stone. The interior was alive—rows of recruits in simple armor sparring with swords and shields, veterans pacing with sharp eyes, and in the center, an arena ring where two gladiators clashed before a crowd of trainees.
The air was thick with sweat, determination, and the hunger to prove oneself.
Zack let out a low whistle. "Feels like SOLDIER training all over again… just with less mako and more sunburn."
Before he could step further in, a stern voice rang out. "You there."
Zack turned to see a tall woman with dark hair bound tightly, her armor polished but practical, her expression sharp enough to cut steel. She strode forward, sword at her hip, her presence commanding silence from the nearby trainees.
"You walk in here with no armor, no shield, and a grin like you own the place," she said flatly. "This is the Gladiator's Guild, not some tavern for boastful adventurers. State your business."
Zack gave her a bright salute, his grin never faltering. "Name's Zack Fair. I heard this is the place to be if you want to test your sword arm—and, y'know, save some lives while you're at it."
The woman's eyes narrowed. "Jenlyns," she said curtly. "Guildmaster. And I've heard that before. Adventurers full of fire who burn out within a week. What makes you different?"
Zack rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling. "Different? Hm. Well, I've got a habit of jumping into danger without thinking too hard. Usually ends up with me winning, though. And… people tend to follow me, whether I ask them to or not." He winked. "Guess that's a kind of skill, right?"
Murmurs rippled through the recruits watching nearby. Some smirked at his confidence, others scoffed.
Mylla didn't smile. Instead, she gestured to the ring. "Show me. Defeat one of my veterans. If you fail, you leave. If you succeed… we'll talk."
Zack's grin stretched wider. "Now you're speaking my language."
---
The crowd parted, forming a rough circle around the ring. Zack stepped in, rolling his shoulders, stretching his arms as if limbering up for a jog. His opponent was a burly gladiator, his shield broad as a door, his sword sharp enough to split stone.
The veteran gave a curt nod, clearly underestimating Zack's easy stance. "Try not to embarrass yourself, pup."
Zack chuckled, drawing his own blade. "Funny, I was about to say the same thing."
The duel began with a clash of steel. The veteran swung his sword in heavy, practiced arcs, shield raised high. Zack darted in, parrying with quick motions, his speed forcing the veteran to adjust. Sparks flew as steel met steel, the crowd gasping at Zack's agility.
He moved with a kind of reckless grace—leaping, spinning, laughing even as he narrowly avoided strikes that would have crushed him.
"Too slow!" Zack taunted, sidestepping a blow and tapping the veteran's shield with the flat of his blade. "C'mon, I thought you were a pro!"
The crowd of recruits erupted in laughter, though a few whispered nervously—was he cocky, or just that good?
The veteran snarled, pressing harder, his strikes heavier, his shield bash nearly knocking Zack off his feet. Zack stumbled, grinning through the impact. "Now we're talking!"
He surged forward, sword flashing in a flurry of quick blows, forcing the veteran back step by step. The man's shield caught most of them, but Zack's relentless energy wore him down. Finally, Zack spun low, his blade knocking the shield aside, and pressed the tip of his sword to the veteran's chest.
The arena went silent. Then, slowly, cheers erupted from the recruits watching.
Zack lowered his blade, breathing hard but smiling. "Guess I pass?"
---
Mylla stepped forward, her expression unreadable. The veteran picked himself up, glaring but giving Zack a respectful nod.
"You're reckless," Mylla said at last. "Undisciplined. You treat the arena like a stage instead of a battlefield."
Zack shrugged. "Maybe. But people were watching, right? They laughed, they cheered. That means they believed—even if just for a second—that I'd win. And that belief? That's what keeps people moving when things look impossible."
For the first time, Mylla's stern mask cracked, just slightly. "Inspiration…" she murmured. She studied him for a long moment, then gave a short nod. "Very well. You may stay. But understand this—raw talent and charisma will not be enough forever. We will forge discipline into you, or you'll burn out like the rest."
Zack grinned, saluting again. "Deal. Just try to keep up with me."
The recruits laughed again, murmuring to one another about the newcomer. Already, some looked at Zack with admiration, others with rivalry.
---
Later, as the arena emptied and the sun dipped lower, Zack found himself sitting on the edge of the training ring, wiping sweat from his brow. His sword leaned against the wall beside him, and the sounds of Ul'dah's bustling streets echoed faintly beyond the guild.
He pulled the trinket from his pocket, turning it over in his hands. Its faint glow pulsed gently, a reminder of the others scattered across Eorzea.
He chuckled softly. "Guess this place is gonna whip me into shape. Aerith would probably tell me to be careful, Galuf would laugh and tell me I'm reckless, Noctis would just nod like he saw it coming… and Reks? He'd probably just be impressed."
His smile softened as he held the trinket tighter. "We'll meet again stronger. That's the deal, right?"
The trinket pulsed faintly in response, as though answering him.
Zack leaned back, stretching his arms behind him, staring up at the coliseum's high walls. "Alright then. Let's see what this world can make of me."
---
High above, unseen, Sirius observed through threads of fate. He watched Zack's boundless energy ripple through the guild, already inspiring recruits who had nearly given up on themselves.
Reckless, yes. But that light… it's infectious. That's his gift. And in the battles ahead, it will be needed.
Sirius allowed himself a small smile before fading back into the veil, leaving Zack to his training, his laughter already echoing across the guildhall.
---
And so, Zack Fair—ex-SOLDIER, hero of another world—took his first steps as a gladiator of Ul'dah.
The journey had only just begun.