Birds circled overhead. Carrion scavengers awaiting their next meal. I peered up at them, shielding my eyes from the harsh sunlight. Would they come to feast on my corpse next like they had to countless others. My attention snapped quickly to my opponent across from me. Suddenly, I became aware of my surroundings and my situation. The crowd rumbled with bloodlust. The sand of the pit beneath my feet was drenched with blood from the last match. It made an unpleasant squelching between my toes. I gripped my sword tightly, feeling its weight. My opponent was at least double my size. He looked more like an ogre than a man to be honest. He carried a large club inlaid with jagged bone and rusted iron. One hit from it meant death. He snarled at me, spitting what I assumed were obscenities but they were in a different language. The announcer clanged a loud gong signaling the start of the match. The audience roared excitedly. The ogreish man rumbled toward me. His movements were practiced, clearly those of a warrior. I admired his precision as the club whipped over head. He used his momentum to set up a diagonal strike. I parried, my blade skating across the rough wood. Dancing back a few steps, I dropped into moon goddess stance. It was perfect for dealing with larger foes. The ogre charged again. This time he went for an underhand blow. The heavy club ripped through the ground as it careened towards me. My movements became like water as I flowed around my opponent. Four careful incisions were made in the span of a breath. Wrist tendon, elbow, armpit, back of the knee. By the time my opponent finished swinging, I was already behind him. Blood flecked the sand as I snapped it off my blade. The ogres right arm fell limp and his weapon thudded to the ground. The crowd went silent. They were unsure of what they’d just witnessed. My opponent roared in anger and pain. He scooped up the club in his off hand, charging at me once again. However, he only managed to a single step before his leg gave out from beneath him. The giant man fell to the sand. Gasps came from the crowd. I watched slightly bored as he tried to get back to his feet. I was on him in an instant. My blows rained on him like a waterfall on a boulder. Blood spurted from each carefully placed cut. In another flash, his movements stopped. All that was left was his ragged labored breathing. The sound filled my ears. Life flowing through his veins, his lungs. I slashed one final time. His carotid severed and the large man watched helplessly as his life painted the sand. I used to feel something. Guilt, remorse, disgust at my actions. Now all I felt was cold. And rage.