King Altaier bounded to his feet in disbelief as he watched the force shield fade out of existence from around the orc.

Magic, magic?! How could an orc have magic?! He thought in a rage, no matter, he won’t live long enough to become a problem.

“Guards!” He yelled to the soldiers on the sidelines and to the ones still in the field, “kill the abomination!” He said pointing at the orc.

Good. He thought, we shall see how the bastard survives this.

-----

Takarn POV

Takarn’s eyes fluttered open weakly in time to see several large groups of soldiers rushing toward him with swords drawn.

He tried to move, to scream, to even wiggle his toes and was left wanting, he was paralysed not by fear, but by inescapable biology. All he could do was sit and watch as death crept toward him on armoured wings.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to watch what happened next, it was then that he felt something inside of him. A fire burning hot and bright in his heart. A hateful angry fire, it was the bane.

Takarn opened his eyes again, drunk on the prospect that he might not be dying today.

He reached out to the fire, pulling it out of his body with a thought and then gathering it in his hand all in a matter of milliseconds. The control was intuitive, like he had been doing this his entire life and the fire welcomed and embraced him like an old friend.

He shot out the gathered bane in his hand into a constant stream of fire into the largest knot of soldiers. It burnt hot enough to melt metal and soon the world was filled with the stench of burning flesh and the soft crackling of a fire, it made his mouth water.

His back was against the far wall and as such he faced all of his attackers with no way to be flanked, good odds.

Takarn blasted out gout upon gout of blazing hot dragon fire into his aggressors before once more reaching for the fire to find it empty. No! no, no, no this can’t be, I was so close! He yelled internally.

He fought to keep his eyes open for as long as he could but in the end it was all for naught, no one can cast spells forever.

-----

Rebel POV

The boy had been training for tis his entire life, today they would hit the grand arena, today slavery would be dealt a serious blow, today he would avenge his family.

“Are you ready my brothers, for today is the moment that you have all been waiting for, today we shall end the reign of slavery in Boranon for we are the breakers of chains!” Spoke a young man, his name was Carafel and he was their leader.

“Breaching in 3, 2, 1, now!” Yelled a balding older man from the front of their party as he kicked oped the wooden door into the arena.

“Go now my brothers, for freedom!” Yelled Carafel as the remaining rebels surged into the arena, setting upon the disordered flank of the soldiers.

As they entered the scene they were met with chaos, soldiers lay charred upon the ground and people in the stands clambered over one another to leave as fast as was humanly possible.

The remaining soldiers were demoralized and wounded, the rebels made short work of them.

Swords lanced out and soon the arena was turned into a visceral storm of blood and gore, bodies flying everywhere.

Later when the battle was over the boy found himself walking with Carafel and one of the bands healers, a unique type of enhancer that use their powers to heal the wounds of others.

They walked through the sandy field, healing those that needed it and taking a tally of their losses, they would need to leave soon, before the kingdoms counter attack.

They were just about to leave when their mage, a man by the name of Hasturo nearly fell on his ass.

“What is it man.” Asked Carafel impatiently.

“I just felt a very powerful magical signature under that pile of bodies, at least a 4th or 5th tier mage.” Said the mage seemingly not even believing his own words.

As the rebels dug away the pile of charred corpses they wet with a grisly visage. An onyx skinned orc lay there, face contorted in pain and covered in several wounds and burns but still alive, Carafel drew his sword only to be blocked by the mage.

“What are you doing Hasturo?” Said Carafel angrily, “we must kill it, it is an orc.”

“What do you mean? We can use this beast just imagine how much more powerful we would become with another mage at our disposal. Plus it is only a beast from the plains, I am sure I can control it.” Said the mage hastily trying to placate the sword wielding man.

Carafel slowly sheathed his sword while glaring daggers at the orc before giving orders for it to be taken with them.

“You better know what you are doing Hasturo, for if this goes wrong it is on your head.” He said before turning and leaving with the rest of the party.

And that was how Takarn left the arena, carried once more in the fray, once more into his destiny.