Headed by a Snake

Maximus lightly shook his head, "It's Tycondrius."

"Huh?" Theo furrowed his brows.

"The Tactician's name... It's Tycon."

Theo opened his mouth to argue... but the words stuck in his throat. He wasn't familiar with any current or former gladiators named 'Tychon'... but there was something in Maximus' seriousness that gave him pause.

"That man," Maximus turned to him with a grave expression... "is worth more than your entire f*cking guild combined."

"You... you're... joking, right?" Theo forced a strained laugh.

The dragonblood did not respond, once more returning his gaze to the doors.

...Maybe it was a joke. Theo hoped it was a joke.

Ha ha.

It wasn't very funny, though...

The doors opened abruptly, the scraping of metal-on-metal nearly making Theo piss himself. Two attendants from within the arena grunted noisily, straining to push the heavy doors open.

"We're here," Maximus muttered through clenched teeth.

Theo could swear the man emitted a low, bestial growl as he spoke.

By the Flame...

He swore to himself he'd never partner with Maximus, again... provided he survived the next bout.

The audience chanted as they walked onto the sands.

"Maximus," they said. "Maximus. Maximus."

The voices of tens of thousands of people... screamed his name.

The dragonblood arrogantly strode forward, raising his warspear skyward.

The crowd... went... wild. They lusted for blood... and for the sanctified magic wielded by the strongest gladiator in Ezyria.

They wanted the wafting of burnt meat. They wanted to red flesh torn, bones wrench, break, and shatter. They wanted the screams of dying men as their crying wives covered the eyes of their children.

With the magical sound amplification in the arena, they'd get their wish.

Theo gulped hard... "This is a Flamescarred madhouse."

"Ignore them," Maximus said as he flourished his warspear. "They're not here for you."

Then... the overseer announced Sol Invictus.

The crowd rose in a frenzy, stomping their feet, cheering at the top of their lungs, booing and screaming epithets... They demanded that their favored champions win them their wagers. They demanded blood... and all the other things with it.

The first of their two opponents strode forward. On his head was a peculiar helmet with a green-colored visor that hid his eyes. Glass reinforced with magic, perhaps?

His armor design was flat, mundane-- though it did have a strange bluish gleam. His arms were uncovered, wiry and muscly... smaller than those of Theo and Maximus, both.

On his waist was a single sword... in hand, a single pilum. He carried no shield. Nothing about the Tactician was intimidating.

Invictus' last match was an even 5-on-5... against challengers from a small Kasydonian guild. Their strategy was in eliminating the Tactician. They must have figured that the green-visored fellow was their weak point.

The Tactician defended himself with sword and shield, all while hurling taunts and retreating like a coward.

To their critics, it was the biggest mockery ever seen in Ezyria. To their admirers, it was a fantastical display of finesse and showmanship. To Caeruleum, it was the most talked-about match in recent history.

The guild from Kasydon was destroyed on that very sun. Every single gladiator was either killed or took a career-ending injury.

To fight against Sol Invictus... it wasn't possible to ignore their front line: Berserker Dragan and Ranger Quies. Their back-line was criminal. They had not one, but two Sanctified Psykers, Zuko and Lulu.

Each and every member of Sol Invictus was a superhuman monster-- why would Tychon be any different?

Theo didn't want to believe that Maximus was telling the truth. The truth did not bode well for the two of them.

The second Invictus gladiator... he followed close behind the Tactician, as if he was hiding his presence.

It was... just a boy.

He was young... too young to join the army, even. His helmet looked almost too big for him... and it was the same for the strange bluish armor he wore.

Theo had heard of a short-statured Sharpshooter named Koskae... but a Ranged Class would be wielding a crossbow. The boy... he carried a spear-- a beginner's weapon. He had no shield, like the Tactician... but he didn't have a sidearm.

"Tell me that's a f*cking joke..." Theo narrowed his eyes.

The Caeruleum arena was no place for a child.

Maximus ignored him, walking forward.

...and he was gnashing his teeth in rage.

...

Pale spun in a circle, awestruck by the chaos of the crowd all around him, "Whoaaa..."

Tycondrius smirked, seeing the wonder in his young companion's eyes, "Look alive, young man. The dovahkiin appears to be upset."

Pale stuck out his lips in a pout, "Y... yeah. He does... and Maximus is a lot bigger than we are!"

"Size is a non-factor," Tycon chuckled, tapping the side of the boy's helmet, "Are you confident that the spear of a Hero can compete against that of Sanctum Parmularius Maximus?"

"Wh... wha?" Pale furrowed his brows, "Wait! This? THIS is the training, Sir?! A 2-on-2 match? But... but one of them's Mister Maximus?!"

"Not.. quiiiite..." Tycon mused.

He twirled about his pilum and hefted it up... to the adoration of the screaming crowd.

"Sir?" Pale bit his upper lip, "They haven't announced the start of the match yet?"

"Indeed," Tycon grinned. "I shall do the honors, then."

"...With a throwing spear?"

"Correct."

Admittedly, it was a bit rude to most-everyone involved... but Tycon had no obligation to follow the rules. What would Caeruleum do? Fine him?

He took a few comfortable steps forward... then broke into a sudden sprint, "⌈Shadowfang.⌋"

Mana coursed through his meridians and his movement blurred, steadying himself while skidding on the sands, he activated a second-skill, "⌈Eviscerate.⌋"

Tycon's mana-empowered throw sent his pilum spiraling towards Maximus.

The dark-haired dovahkiin reflexively lifted his circular shield... but quickly realizing the danger, he dove out of the way.

There was a substantial amount of Gold-Rank mana channeled into the attack-- he'd combined two skills to get the effect, after all. It wasn't something a mundane piece of metal could block-- even one made of Tyrion steel.

Maximus was a Warmage, a hybrid Martial-Caster-- and one that focused on offense. A ⌈Mana Ward⌋ to defend himself would be highly taxing... and might not even be wholly successful.

Avoidance was his best option.

Avoidance was what Tycon expected.