Page 7 of Gladiator Moon

“Oh, but you are Samantha Moon.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Everything is vibration, you see. I have long since been trained in the art of reading vibration. I have followed your vibrational imprint back for nearly two decades. I watched you working for a government agency where you took down offenders and various criminals with your very normal human abilities. Then I watched you do the same with your supernaturally enhanced abilities. Crime lords, murderers, lake monsters, ancient vampires, serial killers, and devils and demons. Lots and lots of demons. The devil one was impressive, I must say, and I took keen interest in that.”

“Oh? Why?”

“It showed a certain fortitude. A penchant for overcoming what seems unlikely. Both of which will serve you well in the games. You gave up the Devil Killer sword?”

“I did, yes.”

“A shame, though it might have given you an unfair advantage.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“And you gave up Excalibur, too.”

“I did, yes.”

“Another powerful sword. But you still have the ice sword, I see.”

“I think so, yes, if it works here.”

“It should, along with your other limited magical abilities, though you will not be able to summon Talos, remember.”

“I remember.”

“A full set of arena rules will be given to you in your quarters, which I would like to take you to now. Before we go, take a good look at the arena where you will fight to the death. Fair warning, once the fight begins, there is no escaping it until one of you dies. At which point your wounds will be attended to and you will be allowed to rest before your next battle.”

I scan the arena as he speaks. It seems to be bigger than what I imagined the Colosseum in Rome looked like, though I wouldn’t know since we never ended up visiting. Anyway, surrounding us on all sides are dozens, if not hundreds, of rows of seating heading precariously up. Talk about your nosebleed sections.

“Most of Grandar come to watch the fights. This stadium seats many millions of souls. You must fight here, on the ground level, in the dirt arena. This is where you will be forced to fight, trapped by a sort of force-field that will keep you in the arena... until someone breathes their last.”

“A bloodthirsty lot, I see.”

“Very much so, yes. We love a good fight. The bloodier, the better. When a head gets lopped off, the crowd really goes nuts, to use another one of your sayings.”

“Sick, but okay.”

“You are permitted to run for your life, though you risk having the arena magically shrink around you and come face to face with your opponent. But I am getting ahead of myself. The rules are included in your welcome package.”

“Some welcoming. Okay, show me to my quarters.”

“This way...”

It is then that I notice the little wizard is presently hovering a few inches off the ground. Pretty sure he wasn’t hovering back in my office. Speaking of which, my memory seems to have fully returned. Yeah, a spell had definitely been cast on me, the bastard. Somehow, he hijacked my teleporting. How exactly, I’m not sure. Immortals can’t be mind controlled or influenced by outside forces. But we are susceptible to spells.

“How did you implant a vision of this place into my mind, Baltazar?” I ask.

“The wizards here on Grandar are very proficient at mind control and mind reading, though the immortals of your world are a tough nut to crack, so to speak. As such, we have learned to confuse our targets with forgetfulness. It makes the mind pliable and suggestive, and gives us a small opening.”

“Well, aren’t you a little piece of shit.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I had my orders.”

“To bring back warriors?”

“Yes.”