"I can't believe you would trust a clown!" The Jester shrieked, clutching his stomach as he doubled over in mid-air laughter. He somersaulted in the air, landing on a thick, rusted chain and swinging back and forth like a child on a playground. "The door is very shy! It only opens... for the winner! Hehehehe!"
A guttural vibration shook the very foundation of the arena, shifting from a low hum to a violent tremor that threatened to snap Rian's ankles. Suddenly, the sand ten feet in front of him erupted in a spray of grey grit and bone-dust.
A creature hauled itself out of the pit, looking like a distorted, humanoid shadow that had been stretched on a rack until its proportions were ruined. It was an Abomination, bearing a single, jagged tally mark etched deep into its elongated collarbone. Its skin was the color of bruised plums, and instead of hands, its long arms ended in heavy, bone-like clubs. It had no eyes, only a wide, lipless mouth filled with needle-thin teeth that chattered together in a manic, clicking rhythm.
The creature let out a wet, wheezing sound, its head twitching from side to side as it caught the scent of Rian's sweat. Above them, the forest of chains began to sway toward the monster as if drawn by its presence, clinking in a frantic, metallic rhythm that matched the chattering of the beast's teeth.
"Oh! A Gravel-Gnasher!" the Jester clapped his hands, his feet kicking playfully in the air. "It's got a bit of a temper and has a very special diet. Lucky for it I believe scrawny boys are the special of the day!"
Rian felt his heart crawl up to his throat "Um isn't this a bit unnecessary"
The Jester hummed in response, tapping the nose of his mask with a gloved finger. "Perhaps this is a bit much. A star should at least have a prop, shouldn't he? It's hard to make a masterpiece without a brush!"
With a sudden, violent yank, the Jester grabbed one of the thinner chains hanging near his head and pulled. High above in the violet haze, something metallic groaned and snapped.
A heavy object came hurtling down, whistling through the air before slamming into the ash-sand just a few feet from Rian. The impact sent a cloud of dust billowing upward.
As the grit settled, Rian saw a rusted, jagged iron pipe stuck upright in the ground. It wasn't a sword but one end had been sharpened into a crude, wicked point, and the other was wrapped in tattered, blood-stained leather for a grip.
"There!" the Jester chirped, waving a hand dismissively. "A gift from the management. It's slightly used, very dirty, and might give you tetanus but it's better than your fists, isn't it?"
Rian stared at the piece of junk, then at the Gnasher, which was currently dragging its bone-clubs through the sand as it began a slow, predatory circle.
Rian gripped the pipe, the cold iron biting into his palm. Just as his fingers closed around it a clicking roar re-entered Rian's ears.
Before Rian could even look up, the doorborn lunged forward, the bone-clubs whistling as they swung toward Rian's head.
Its first swing was a horizontal blur that forced Rian to hit the dirt, the wind from the bone-club whistling inches above his head.
Even if Rian was completely untrained in combat, his years of agile dodging and constant beatings gave Rian some sort of dexterity and mental stability.
Rian scrambled back, his boots slipping on the loose ash. He gripped the pipe with white-knuckled intensity. The pipe felt heavy, unbalanced, and far too short for the reach of the monster.
The Gnasher didn't just stand there after its first miss. It spun with a surprising, fluid grace, its massive bone-club catching Rian square in the shoulder.
Rian was thrown backward, his boots carving deep trenches in the ash as he tumbled. The world became a dizzying blur, violet sky, grey sand, laughing Jester, but the most overwhelming part was the sound. The crowd's roar didn't just get louder; it became a physical wall of noise, a chaotic, rhythmic chanting that seemed to vibrate inside Rian's skull. The sounds messed with his head as it rose higher and higher in noise.
The sound pulsed in time with the throbbing in his shoulder, making it impossible to tell where the pain ended and the shouting began. He came to a stop, gasping for air.
"Oh, look at that!" the Jester sang out, his voice cutting through the roar like a needle through silk. "The rat is leaking! Five points for the Gnasher!"
The monster didn't wait for a round of applause. It charged again, its heavy feet thumping like a funeral drum. Rian scrambled up, his vision swimming. The stadium seemed to tilt on its axis, the tiers of stone spectators swirling into a nauseating vortex of black robes and pale faces. He tried to dodge, but the disorientation made his timing sluggish. The Gnasher swung a club low, sweeping Rian's legs out from under him.
He hit the sand hard. The roar of the audience reached a fever pitch, a deafening, unified howl that felt like it was trying to push him deeper into the dirt. Before he could roll, a heavy, plum-colored foot slammed down onto his chest, pinning him. The air left Rian's lungs in a violent wheeze. The Gnasher leaned over him, its lipless mouth dripping a foul, acidic saliva that sizzled as it hit Rian's shirt.
The monster raised a bone-club high, its needle-teeth chattering in anticipation. But as it prepared to strike, the Gnasher shifted its weight, its foot sinking deeper into the loose, treacherous ash-sand.
Rian's eyes widened. 'The ground is soft,' he thought to himself.
He didn't try to push the foot off; he used the last of his strength to shove the rusted pipe into the soft sand right next to the Gnasher's heel, creating a hard, unyielding pivot point.
"Hey! Over here, you overgrown plum!" Rian choked out, his voice barely audible even to himself over the stadium's thunder.
Infuriated, the Gnasher let out a guttural roar and slightly lifted its foot to put all its force into a double-overhead smash. It was a move meant to pulverize.
Rian threw himself into a desperate, frantic twist, sliding out from under the beast's foot just as the clubs descended.
THOOM.
The impact was seismic. Because the Gnasher had overextended and its foot was already caught in the shifting sand and Rian's pipe, the force of the swing didn't just hit the ground, it drove the monster's own arms deep into a soft pocket of the arena floor. The clubs wedged themselves between the jagged obsidian foundations beneath the ash.
The Gnasher let out a confused, panicked screech, jerking its torso back, but its heavy bone-limbs were stuck fast. Caught by its own immense strength.
Rian dragged himself up, his breath coming in ragged, bloody hitches. The roar of the crowd shifted, the bloodlust turning into a confused, buzzing drone that made Rian's ears ring. He limped toward the struggling beast, grabbing the bent pipe from where it was stuck in the sand.