Cornelius stepped into the arena's light, the nauseating stench of sweat and blood crashing onto him. At his side walked Primus, a slave of the Terphan Empire. The only thing they had in common was that a rising empire had made them prisoners of war after ravaging their lands. He knew nothing of Primus but his name, yet as the crowd rose from their seats in the oval stadium and began shouting in a dialect unfamiliar to them, he felt his only source of stability and comfort resided in the slave beside him.

"Will they make us fight each other?" Primus whispered as they marched to the center of the arena, where they were demanded to bow before the Emperor.

"I know nothing of what they will make us do." Cornelius frowned at the cheering crowd. "But they'll kill us in the end. We will find no mercy in this empire."

They halted before the Emperor's box, where he lounged on a seat shaped as a wolf. His eyes expressed his boredom, flitting from Cornelius to Primus before settling on the rings he wore on each finger. Banners fluttered in the breeze behind him, yellow with a bronze lynx in the center.

There were words they had to recite, but they had fled Cornelius's mind the moment he had stepped on the coliseum's golden sand. Terror crept up his spine as the reality of his situation dawned on him. Death seemed nearer than ever, grasping at his neck teasingly.

"Hail Emperor! Those who are about to die, salute you!" Primus shouted.

Cornelius repeated the words numbly, gripping the pommel of his sword to cover his trembling hands. The Emperor's gaze returned to the arena, a smile on his lips, when a deafening howl sounded from the rising gates behind Cornelius. He turned toward the gates, glancing at Primus, whose face showed pure determination. Cornelius's stomach was in knots from anticipation and dread.

A creature resembling a wolf burst into the arena, thrice its natural size. Its eyes, dark as onyx, observed the two slaves while saliva dripped from crooked fangs. The beast's fur was a gleaming silver, stained and crusted with blood.

It lunged at Primus, jaw open wide. The slave rolled away, but not without one of the wolf's claws tearing through his shoulder and chest. He grunted and rose hastily, clenching his sword with two hands as the creature came again. Primus cut its maw in a clean arc, yet the damage was minimal.

Cornelius threw himself at the wolf. His sword bit into the beast's neck, and it howled in agony, stepping away from Primus. Cornelius cut through its right eye, fluids spattering on his armor. He grimaced in disgust. The wolf snarled and snapped its jaw at his face. Cornelius turned away and lost part of his ear, ripped away by the creature's fangs. He stumbled away, cursing and wincing. Blood slid down his throat, dripping onto the weak armor most slaves in the coliseum wore.

The wolf circled them, applauded by the crowd.

Cornelius panted and stepped nearer to Primus, whose face seemed paler from blood loss.

"I won't survive, Cornelius," he rasped.

He did not believe him. He could not, or he might drop his sword in discouragement. If Primus died, he would also. There was little chance of survival for a lone man against the bloodlust of a monster. The wolf came again, targeting Primus, who kneeled in defeat.

"Primus! Stand!" Cornelius shouted when the beast was nearly upon them.

He remained on the ground, hand fisted over his heart. Cornelius raised his sword and charged at the beast. He plunged his sword into its remaining eye while the wolf sunk its teeth into his forearm. Cornelius roared in suffering, forcing his blade deeper into the creature's skull. The crowd erupted in cheers at the show of violence and watched as the wolf slumped to the ground, bested by a slave.

Cornelius collapsed seconds later, exhaustion weighing at him. He craddled his arm, which weeped blood, and looked up at Primus. The man's eyes were distant, yet a subtle smile graced his chapped lips. His wound had emptied him of his blood, and weakness had overcome him. Primus fell sideways into the sand, still clutching his open arm.

"Primus?" Cornelius breathed out, pulling himself to the man.

"I knew this would be my end," Primus weezed. "But I wish it could have been in my homelands."

"This is why you must fight death. Battle with me against this empire, and we will find our freedom once more."

"We will never be free." A tear slid down the slope of Primus's nose. "But I am thankful for you. You have fought for me, and for that, I will forever be in your debt."

A last breath escaped Primus's lips before he stilled. Cornelius felt inexplicable sorrow for the man he knew so little about. He kissed his right hand in a form of respect and rose, the shouts of the crowd never ceasing. He did not understand their words, but there was peace in his ignorance.