《Prideful Templar - LitRPG》Chapter 9 : Giant White Scales? What Could It Be?

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Tilos sat in a wooden tub scrubbing the feces and piss from his pale skin. Tilos half suspected that Creed and his guards had slathered shit and piss all over the stone building. They had only given him a scrub and a bucket to clean the floors, walls, and toilets. Shit and piss clung to his simple clothes, staining them brown and yellow. Surprisingly cleaning out the septic tank was the easiest of the tasks. The task was challenging to do by himself, but at least they gave him a horse to help with transporting the waste.

Tilos got out of the tub and dumped the dirty water onto the washroom floor. The water had turned brown. Tilos suppressed a gag as he forgot not to breathe through his nose. The foul stench made him nauseous, and the smell burned his nostrils. The dirty water flowed and pooled around the floor drain, collecting into the underground wastewater below.

Tilos sat the tub down and went over a faucet on the wall. He picked up a bucket next to it, filling the bucket with cold water. He then walked over to a stool he had prepared in advance. A clean towel lay on the seat with a soap bar on top.

Tilos picked up the towel and soap, then took a seat on the stool. He dipped the towel and soap into the bucket of cold water and then began to wash, scrubbing away the last of the filth coating his body. Once his body was completely lathered, he poured the remaining water into the bucket on his head. Washing away the bubbly suds and cleaned himself completely.

Tilos sat the bucket down on the ground, got up, and exited the washroom. Tilos entered the locker room, rows of wooden cubbies stacked on top of each other with benches separating them, forming a walkway. The only other people in the locker room were two guards. They both eyed Tilos as he entered the locker room.

“Hurry it up! If you move any slower, you’ll make master Felwen late for the fight! And you don’t want that! ” One of the guards yelled at Tilos.

Tilos heads over to a bench with the fresh clothes and towel he prepared for himself. He drys himself off first, then puts on the clean clothes.

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The two guards then escorted him out of the locker room to the estate courtyard. There Tilos found the same carriage that brought him to the estate. Hiro and Raven were in the cell at the back of the carriage and the rest of Tilos’ fellow gladiators. Tilos joins them, taking a seat at the side of Raven.

Raven recoils and pinches her nose, “You stink.”

Hiro laughed, “That’s his normal smell.”

Tilos frowned, sniffing himself, but he could not smell anything, “I scrubbed myself three times. I shouldn’t smell at all.”

Hiro smiled, “You took extra long scrubbing shit and soap all over yourself.”

The guards locked the cell door, sealing the group of gladiators into the cell. The estate gate swung open, and the carriage started moving forward.

“Are we going to the Crystal Colusiem for our fight?” Tilos asked.

The gladiators around him started to laugh.

“No, the Crystal Colusiem is only reserved for the best. We’re going to the Swine Pits.” Loris said after he managed to stop laughing.

A cacophony of voices filled Tilos’ ears. The voices of the crowd above morphed into a drone. The carriage he was in descended into the lower basement of the Swine Pits. Guards of the fighting arena flanked them from either side, guiding them through the dark corridors. Torches mounted along the walls lit their descent below ground. It reminded Tilos of the Underdark, of early years spent hunting down strange creatures.

They entered a large room filled with other carriages, a garage of sorts. The carriage stopped, and the guards unlocked the cell door, letting the gladiators out.

“No wandering. Stay with the group,” A Swine Pit guard warned them. His face was covered by the helmet he wore.

The group followed the guards as they led them through the tunnels underneath the arena. Tilos committed every path they took to memory.

They arrived at their destination. The guards ushered them into a room one by one and locked the door behind them. “Get changed.” One of the guards said from the other side of the door.

Then the glow around the armbands on Tilos died, and the connection to the Weave came back to him. He was once a blind man, but now he could see once more. He smiled as the stress and tension he did not know he was under relaxed.

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“Don’t just stand around smiling. Hurry up and get changed.” Ralken commanded.

Tilos squinted his eyes at the man. Ralken was currently putting on leather armor. “Don’t tell me what to do, peasant,” Tilos commented, then went over to where Hiro and Raven were changing.

Tilos opened the locker adjacent to Raven’s. Inside was a full suit of leather armor. All that was missing was a helmet. He put the armor on over the clothes he was wearing.

He then went over to the weapon rack, selecting a sword and shield. The blade was sharp to the touch. The metal of the shield and sword was freshly polished.

A slit in the door slammed open, “Ralken, you up.” The guard then slammed the slit closed.

Ralken sighed, getting up from the bench he was sitting on and standing on a wooden platform. Ropes were attached to the four corners of the structure. Tilos followed the ropes to the ceiling, finding a pulley system at the top.

The ceiling above the platform opened up. And the wooden structure ascended, taking Ralken with it. Ralken disappeared as the platform reached its zenith.

“What now,” Hiro asked.

“We wait,” Loris responded, then went back to playing the card game with the other gladiators.

Tilos took a seat on the ground. Crossing his legs and closing his eyes, Tilos activated [Mediation], the skill assisting him in replenishing his Essence reserves.

“Tilos, Loris, Raven, Hiro, and Elra. You all are up next,” The guard slammed shut the slit in the door.

Tilos was the first to step onto the elevator, followed by Hiro, Raven, Elra, and Loris. The elevator groaned under their combined weight as the platform began to ascend.

“You sure this thing can hold all of our weight?” Hiro eyed the platform with skepticism.

The ceiling above them opened up, allowing the torched light to leak into the locker room.

“We’ll be fine. I’ve been on this with nine other people before,” Elra smiled at Tilos.

The cheers of the crowd grew as their bodies emerged above ground. Tilos stepped off the platform onto stable ground, and so did the others. The hole where they came through sealed when they stepped off.

On the ground around Tilos was a similar dirt sand mixture to the ground in Felwen’s courtyard. A tall wall circled Tilos, containing the fighters inside the arena. Seating above the wall was the crowd. The majority of the seats were filled. Tilos’ eyes stopped at a booth. The booth Felwen was sitting in. Felwen was seated next to a woman. She, too, dressed in the clothes of the influential. The two conversed with each other, each exchanging smiles. Tilos shifted his eyes to the left of Felwen, finding Creed standing by Felwen’s side. The man locked eyes with Tilos’.

Creed smiled and waved.

Tilos sneered and turned away.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a special treat for you today. Master Felwen has brought his new gladiators with him!” A man, seated in a booth overlooking the entire arena, said. His voice magically transmitted through the air.

The crowd cheered, some jumping up from the seats.

“Who is that man,” Tilos asked Loris.

“That’s Gellen, the announcer for the Swine Pits.”

“That’s not all. These new gladiators are from the Trinity Church. And one of them is even a Templar!”

The cheers of the crowd morphed into boos. They started throwing food down into the arena.

“All right, calm down. It is time to begin the match. Open the gate!” Gellen smiled. The roars of the crowd died down.

A metal gate on the circular arena wall slowly opened, metal grinding against metal. A mighty roar bellowed out from the dark tunnel the gate revealed, followed by a pillar of frost.

Tilos and co dodged to the side, letting the attack sail past them.

A giant white drake came running out of the dark tunnel. Thick interlocking white scales covered its body. Misty frost escaped its mouth with each breath. Its deep blue eyes locked onto the group of gladiators, and then it charged, the drake’s sharp claws digging deep grooves into the ground.

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