The sun is harsh and relentless as it beats down on the bare backs of two young men who stand facing each other across the width of a huge arena. Riegion Vaselle flexes his fingers before curling them into two fists so tight that his jagged nails threaten to break the skin.
His heart pounds in his chest and he closes his eyes, breathing in a slow breath and doing his best to tune out the monotonous roar of the crowd. It isn't his first fight, but each and every one leaves a pit of fear and despair in his stomach.
"Fighters at the ready." A voice that's trying too hard to sound deep and commanding booms over the loud speakers, pulling Riegion up out of his semi-calm trance.
Riegion reacts as he was trained to, by crouching down so low that his bare knees almost touch the dusty ground and leaning forward on his front leg like an animal about to pounce. Even with his eyes closed his mind had been running calculations on his first move once the bell tolls. He practice every day in this arena so he knows that it takes ten long strides at a dead sprint to reach the weapons table in the middle, and five more steps to the left to make sure that he's out of the way of his opponent who's coming up on the table at the same time he is.
The only problem with his calculations is the fact that Rowine Ainsly, his opponent, has been practicing just as long as he has and knows Riegion's fighting style just as well as Riegion knows Rowine's.
"Begin!"
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