Sylas

SYLAS

T he training arena is suspiciously quiet, when it should be ringing with the sound of blade on blade. After our performance yesterday, the captain made it pretty clear to me we needed to improve.

As I enter, I see the reason why there are no sounds. It's because no one is training. Maxym is asleep in a chair with his legs propped up on the stone armor table. Blayn sits next to him, staring at the ceiling.

Klynn swings a sword at nothing, and Rych is entirely absent.

I kick at Maxym's legs, and he wakes with a snort.

"What the vrex is going on?"

He yawns and stretches up his arms, wings shuddering as he shakes off his slumber.

"What do you want, ? We had a game yesterday and some of us were also sold for some nightly activities ." He grins at me. "So some of us didn't get much sleep."

I growl at him. "You could have refused," I suggest.

"I could have, but a soft bed, a softer female, good food…why would I refuse?" Maxym grins. "They'd just make me go anyway," he adds, his brow pulled low making him more like his brooding self.

Of all the vrexing things we're expected to do, being sold to a female for the night is one of the worst. Perhaps not so much for the others, but to me, it's another way the procurator ensures we know our place at the bottom of the pile as indentured gladiators.

Sold to the highest bidder, fighting whatever is put in front of us. Offered bonuses we can't spend with every passing game.

Blayn has stopped staring at the ceiling and is now staring at the table with a smile on his face which even he seems confused about.

"What's wrong with him?" I glare at Maxym. "Don't tell me he was also offered for nightly activities."

"Vrex no!" Maxym pours himself out a cup of water which he drains in one go, then offers a cup to Blayn, but he stands instead, swaying, then drops back in his seat, grabbing the water and mantling his wings over it like he does with his food.

"Captain gave him something to calm him down yesterday. Even the dark wouldn't shut him up," Klynn says from the other side of the training arena.

"Must have been a big dose too." Maxym yawns. "He's still feeling the effects."

I stalk over to Blayn. His pupils are massive, clawed hands limp in his lap. I raise my hand to touch him, but even in this state, he shies away from me with a painful whine.

The growl which leaves my throat could wake the dead. And it's intended to. "No one gives Blayn anything. Those are my standing orders."

"Your orders mean nothing here. You know that, ," Klynn says, picking at his claws with a dagger. His dark eyes glitter as he offers a silent challenge. "Are we going to spar or not?" he adds with an insolent shrug.

The silence which was an absence of training has deepened into a repressed violence. Violence I won't be able to hold down. Not after the night I had, filled with hot sweats and screams of my fallen comrades mixed with the savagery of the dome.

I don't even bother with a weapon. I'm already in the air and dropping onto Klynn before he can pick up his sword again. He leaps for me, and we slam into each other, swinging and tumbling as he attempts to get his claws in my face, and I do my best to eviscerate him.

"Gladiators!" A roar comes up from below us, the captain. "You will cease this useless fight and return for training," he adds, equally loudly.

Blood screams in my ears and red filling my vision as I shove Klynn away from me. So many images flash before my eyes, dead warriors, wings torn apart, and the stench of death increases until I don't think I'll ever scent anything else.

", don't do it!" I hear Maxym's voice, but I can't see him.

All I can see is my enemy, the black clad guards who put down my rebellion against those farming us for profit and who killed everyone.

Everyone.

My chest is tight, but my intention is clear. They will all die. They will die now. I will have my revenge. I slam into the first one and delight in hearing bone crack. Something metal sinks into the flesh of my shoulder, and with a growl of rage, I reach back and grab, pulling my assailant over my back and leaping into the air once again. With a couple of down strokes, I'm high enough to drop him and cause plenty of damage.

It's only when I release the creature in my claws my vision clears enough I see who I have hold of. The captain spins as he falls, and although I drop after him, catching hold of the leather straps over his chest, he still hits the packed sand of the arena hard.

Multiple bodies pile in on top of me. I'm growling and snarling at them to get off, to give the captain air, but the vrexers are still coming.

"Enough."

Through the mass of limbs, I see the procurator stood in the entrance to the training arena.

His elite guard of bot soldiers are ranged behind him. Deep in my soul, something snarls at the sight of them.

"I came to see how my gladiators were training this morning, and instead," the tall, pale green-skinned Lyarian says, "I witness this."

Beneath me, the captain squirms, and as I lose focus, I'm pulled off him.

"No one touches my warriors," I rasp, looking directly at the procurator.

"I say who touches my gladiators, not you, . You gave up your rights to a choice when you destroyed your former home and led the failed rebellion. When the council decreed your sentence was to end here."

His bots buzz and hum as if irritated. The sound wave hits me, and if my reaction to Klynn or the captain was visceral, the noise of the bots sends me spiraling as I become something else entirely.

As I go for the procurator, I hear the shouts of my fellow Gryn, but they are lost in my intense desire to destroy everything around me. The bots move into battle formation, and without weapons, I know I have already lost. The procurator stares cooly at me from behind his protective shield.

"When will you learn, gladiator? You are here because you failed. And you can contemplate exactly how you want to spend the remainder of your time alive in the hole."