He stood there, flames forming at the snap of his finger.

The confident and slim statured man was dressed in the same university uniform as me. His black hair, square rimmed glasses, beady eyes, and voice were the exact same as mine.

"Hello, Leo. Good day to die, right?"

There was no doubt in my mind that he was my clone but it wasn't a good day to die.

"Are you supposed to be the grim reaper? Also I’m going to have to politely decline the dying part."

“No, I’m something far more sinister. And it was a rhetorical question!”

He launched the fireball while I scrambled to my feet, sprinting to the left. It roared past me. Warming me up like the desert heat.

I heard the sound of the crowd stomping and roaring around the sandy arena. Are we just gladiators fighting for spectators' amusement? Am I about to die to fireballs instead of the end to a spear?!

My eyes shifted to the left and I spotted transparent beings cheering. But were they cheering for me? Or for me to be turned to ashes?

I glanced over my shoulder, at the clone standing in the middle of the small Colosseum. A huge smirk crept on his face, he snapped his fingers again, larger flames rising above his hand. He hurled it and I couldn't stop, catching a fireball directly on my shoulder.

The impact sent me crashing down to my side. The flames coursed over my arm, sending surges of pain throughout my body.

I rolled around in a panic, fighting with my burning jacket. The raging pain compelled me to fight harder, peeling out of the jacket and throwing it away.

I heard laughter and glanced towards the center. Fear pushed me into a crawling backward lobster until I was backed against the cement wall.

He raised one arm, forming his hand into a finger-gun, like I used to do as a child. A thick icicle started to grow from his finger tip. Shaped like a spade, it shot out from his finger.

I jerked away from the icicle but it rested beside me. I didn't have to turn my head because it was right there.

A stinging pain on my cheek made me reach up and touch.

Blood?

The crimson color coated my fingertips.

I’m going to die here. There’s no doubt about it. This isn’t right. I haven’t lived this shitty life just so I could die by my own hands.

I could feel my heartbeat racing. Sweat drenching out from all my pores. I clutched at the sand that filled the arena, anger welling up from inside.

“Why are you doing this!”

“Why? It’s because you are weak, pathetic, hideous to the point that I couldn’t stand it anymore. We couldn’t stand it anymore!”

“We? Who is ‘we?!’”

“You don’t need to know.”

The icicle shot from his finger. It was fast. Too fast. Shit.