Under the cover of shadow, Taleth moved. He didn't need maps, he had already memorized the layout from the ants.
Every corridor. Every guard rotation. Every spot where he can hide.
It doesn't took him long to reach his destination. The coliseum loomed ahead, an enormous blackstone structure carved into the spine of a volcanic ridge.
Smoke constantly drifted from its upper tiers, and sound of cheers and screams still echoed in the vents even after the last match had ended.
Because here, the fighting never truly stopped.
Most assumed the coliseum's glory matches were the only events. They were wrong.
Every hour, in the lower pits, slaves were thrown into blood-stained arenas, forced to fight for survival, to train the favored, or simply to entertain bored handlers and nobility with nothing better to do.
