Page 41 of Gladiator Moon

How do I awaken it?

Exactly.

In my world, I was also classified as a dark angel. Thus, my black wings.

What are you getting at?

Perhaps it takes an angel to awaken it.

Interesting. Then again, this might be a fool’s quest, Samantha Moon of Earth.

Except, it might be the only way for me to return home, and to stop the Games. Of course, I could always win the games, since I was told only the winner is granted a return trip home.

A lie, Samantha Moon.

Wait, what?

The Dark One drinks deeply from the winner, drinks everything. Nothing is left. The Dark One prizes the blood of a true champion. There is no returning home, Sam. Ever. The teleporting spell hangs over the entire world, held in place by the Dark One. He is the anchor, yes.

So, then, I must return to the arena, find the sword, and destroy him.

Again, surely a fool’s errand, but I suppose that might work.

Why do you only suppose?

There is no guarantee that when the Dark One perishes, that is, if he can even perish, that the spell that keeps you here would be lifted.

I see his point and have to acknowledge it. The spell might survive he who cast it, into perpetuity. There is a very real chance I could be trapped on this planet forever.

Well, there is only one way to find out.

Fair warning, Samantha.

Yes?

Baltazar himself controls much of the magic that happens within the arena, including the executions. The fighters who don’t fight, it is Baltazar who strikes them down. And it is Baltazar’s magic who keeps the fighters imprisoned within its walls. It is he who shrinks the arena to force reluctant warriors to engage in combat. You will likely have to deal with him, too.

Which is why I have you around.

He is a far greater wizard, Sam.

So who’s really in control?

It is an unholy bloody trinity. The Dark One requires blood sacrifices for reasons only it understands.

Perhaps it is a vampire in its own right.

Yes, perhaps. Or it enjoys the taste.

I shrug at that. Back when I was a blood vampire, I most certainly did not enjoy the taste. I saw the benefits of it, yes, but not the taste.

Then there is the king’s bloodline, cursed with an insatiable need to witness violence. The king himself does not consume blood, but he must see it spilled. He craves bloodshed above all else. And finally, there is Baltazar, the greatest wizard in all the land. It is his duty to stage the Games each season, to seek out worthy warriors from distant worlds, and to see the contests through to their bitter end, ensuring that every combatant fights to the death.

Only for the winner to eventually be killed, too.

Yes, I’m afraid it is so.

Why does Baltazar help the king?