When the battered female orc couldn’t get up before they even left the arena, the officers had to block the thrown items with their shields.
“Ma’am, give an order; let’s destroy the arena with the people inside. This is unforgivable!”
The head of the bodyguard spoke, his team’s eyes radiating deep killing intent.
“Not now! Be patient a little longer, guys!”
Nafız was trying to calm them down after the attitude of her warriors. Any other time she would have laughed at what she had done, but right now, she had a solid opponent to face.
Finally, the two warriors met eyes in the middle of the arena. Both stood with no weapons in their hands, awaiting the City Lord’s instruction.
“Begin!”
Astute specifically wanted to kick off the fight. There was one of those rare moments when his reckless demeanor revealed the underlying intent.
Alyon quickly stretched out his hand to catch his opponent’s torn upper head, but Nafız suddenly threw herself back and fell formlessly to the ground. The sight would cause the spectators in the arena to laugh out loud, the female orc running around in fear on her ass, satisfying the crowd’s wildest impulses.
Everyone’s attention was turned to his soaring opponent as the burly male orc gave a solid kick. Nafız, who fell to the ground after ten steps, was moaning in pain; the crowd was enraged. For the first time, a person was able to survive a single blow.
When the excitement of the moment passed, people would figure out what was going on. Alyon was punishing, and the execution for his torture could not end in an instant. The female orc lifted the sand into the air, forming a long line on the ground due to her second kick without straightening up.
Despite her twisted torso and blood-stained face, she was still breathing. Alyon lifted his opponent into the air and slammed his free hand into a deafening blow.
The female orc was hurled, this time up to the wall in front of the audience. Alyon punched her in the head. Due to the last effort or pure exhaustion, Nafız was able to throw herself to the ground; the target of the punch that missed him was the wall.
The blow blew up the masonry wall, and the female orc in the cloud of dust was desperately trying to run. Nafız, who escaped with occasional glances at the executioner walking behind her, fell to the ground when she came to the middle.
Some spectators in the arena involuntarily lamented when the female orc stumbled as she fled. Even they were surprised by their reaction; they were so caught up in the flow that it just came out of their mouths.
‘Hey, what did you say? Or do you feel sorry for this thief!”
“Don’t yell at me; she fell just as he was running away. Do I know what I said out of amazement?”
The event, which caused some controversy among the audience, would be forgotten when Alyon increased his speed and jumped on the opponent on the ground. The tribunes were excited once again with their heroes, who started to punch down their opponents sitting on their shoulders with their knees.
At one, two, three, the fists of the burly male orc landed one after the other, and dust rose from the gust of wind, blocking the view. The mist formed by the sands dissipated after a while, and Alyon was waving Nafız, which he grasped by the neck like a flag.
The rival of the golden boy of the arena was taking its last breaths. Alyon came to the edge of the stands with Nafız, who he lifted with one hand, and started walking. It was as if he intended to show the devastating state of the female orc to all the spectators one by one.
Once the short show is over, it’s time for the finale. Slowly coming to the center of the arena, Alyon quickly threw his opponent to the ground and returned to where the City Lord was. He waited for a signal to finish, a call to end the overflowing delight of the audience.
The entire arena was staring at one man, holding their breath to watch what would happen. The City Lord had the opportunity to get closer to the people today than ever before, so he didn’t want to keep them waiting too long.
“Kill!”
That was the moment, maybe one head would break off, or the burly orc was going to show off by breaking his opponent’s back, but something unexpected happened. The orc, who killed his opponents with one hit, spoke for the first time.
“Don’t worry, I will grant your wish, but first, people of Parthenia, I have something to tell you! For years, you have used orcs as the lowest rank slaves, forced them to hard labor, and eventually sent them to their deaths in this arena!”
While Alyon spoke with his voice that made the arena groan, there was no sound in the stands.
“Now, I have kin in front of me, whose crime is to steal the belongings of deceased people. No witnesses, no evidence, just the claim of a noble family, and this is the situation they fell into as a result!”
After showing Nafız lying on the ground with his hand, Alyon started to shout louder.
“I ask you, did this orc deserve to die? If you have even the slightest doubt in your heart, leave the arena. Those who say yes, please open your eyes. I will show you all a brutality that you will not witness in your lifetime!
Alyon fell silent, only the whispers of the audience echoing across the arena, crashing into the stone walls. A man, holding his young son by the hand, turned his back and started walking towards the exit of the stairs.
The movement was the first step of the chain reaction; people with questions in their minds and people with a sting of conscience left their seats in the stands, taking courage from each other. After two hundred breaths, ten percent of the arena was empty, perhaps a small number of people left, but even that was a historical event.
Those who remained inside began to shout in unison when the people they looked at with disgust left them.
“Kill! Kill! Kill!”
The cheer turned into a frenzy as Alyon ambled to Nafız’s side. The City Lord and his commanders behind him watched the scene fascinated.
By the time the murderer came near his victim, the audience had begun to pace with their feet. The arena was shaking like an earthquake. The burly orc raised his head and cast his gaze over the stands where the rage had turned into a festival.
“You killed them all!”
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Will the dead come back to life? The books say no; the night screams yes.
John Fante
