Episode 10: Blooming Power (Part 1)
"Begin!"
With Altanic's signal, the final promotion match commenced.
"Hyah!"
Gletch charged immediately, swinging his wooden sword straight at Charon's head with all his weight behind the attack—no regard for defense, intending to overwhelm from the start.
Whoosh—
The blade traced a deadly arc. Had it connected, Charon's head would've been smashed to bits.
Altanic and Battia flinched at the unexpected assault, but Charon himself remained impassive, his blank gaze fixed on the descending weapon.
Clang!
Charon reversed his grip mid-block, deflecting the strike before tilting his sword to redirect the force.
But the sheer weight of the overhead blow sent him tumbling backward twice before he barely regained his footing.
‘Reality differs from imagination.’
Charon gritted his teeth. His hands trembled around the hilt—a single clash had laid bare the brutal gap between theory and execution.
‘I must evade.’
Gletch’s attacks came relentlessly. Charon saw every detail—the shift of muscles, the sword’s trajectory—but his inferior physique couldn’t keep pace with his perception. He rolled desperately, predicting movements only possible because he’d memorized Gletch’s patterns during countless observations.
Meanwhile, Gletch frowned. ‘What’s this?’
The boy moved like a raw novice yet dodged as if reading his mind. Each miss sapped Gletch’s momentum unnaturally.
"Hey! Stop playing around!" jeered the spectating gladiators.
"Ha! He’s toying with the brat!"
To their eyes, Gletch appeared to be casually threatening a child rolling in the dirt. Only Battia understood the truth.
‘He’s predicting every move! How should I interpret this?’
Her eyes widened moments later.
Charon, who’d been frantically dodging, suddenly exploited Gletch’s widening stance. As Gletch slammed his sword into the ground, Charon coiled like a spring and vaulted behind him.
Thud!
He struck Gletch’s neck with his unused blade—a futile attack against the gladiator’s corded muscles.
"You rat bastard!"
Whoosh—
Gletch’s spinning counterblow launched Charon airborne.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Charon crashed to the ground, ribs screaming. ‘Too hasty. Should’ve waited—’
The beating began in earnest.
Thwack! Thwack!
"Die, you damn runt!"
Wood cracked against flesh until blood bloomed across Charon’s skin. Through it all, Altanic and Battia watched coldly—this brutality was part of a gladiator’s forging.
Charon glared up through matted hair.
"Enough!" Battia finally barked. "A steel blade would’ve taken your head today. Be ashamed."
Gletch paled. "I... slipped."
"Withdraw!"
The scripted rebuke delivered, Altanic rose. "He survives. By enduring our champion’s trial, Charon earns full gladiator status. To the infirmary."
The crowd buzzed as Gletch trembled, veins bulging. ‘I’ll kill him myself.’
Two days later...
Charon awoke in solitary confinement to Utalo sliding black gruel through the bars. "Sharp senses for a half-corpse. Drink."
The bitter paste dulled his agony. By the third night, black mist seeped from his pores—bones reforged, muscles swelling under the herb’s influence.
At dawn, Utalo gaped at Charon sitting upright, wounds nearly vanished. Their eyes met—dagger-sharp before feigning indifference.
"The... herb," Charon rasped. "Where?"
"The desert. A herbalist comes monthly."
Utalo fled as guards arrived.
"Should’ve died," one muttered, shackling Charon. "Devilspawn..."
In the gladiators’ den, Gletch lunged—
Slash!
A guard collapsed, throat gurgling.
Slash!
The second guard’s face split diagonally.
Blood rained over Charon and Gletch.
"You... insane bastard..." Gletch stammered, pale.
