They had gathered in their seats. Groupings of men spread about the colosseum. The female was there, too, sat beside the talker. They had come to watch him kill, or die. It mattered not. He would put on a show for them, just as they wanted.

Ax in hand, Galal stood at the center of the arena, his arena, waiting for whatever creature they would send to die. He twisted the weapon in his hand, flipping the double ax head as his patience began to wear thin. He breathed deeply of the air, gathering the scents of man and animal to him. Some were excited, most were afraid. They feared him, that much was obvious. From the scents in the air, Galal questioned if it was he that they should be fearing.

The wooden doors opened at last, the creature inside bolting through as soon as the gap widened, throwing the doors apart and nearly sending one of the men into the arena. Good. The creature was not the one he had smelled. He did not need to fear it.

The creature was fast, running directly at him, a set of horns pointed at him. He sidestepped as it reached him, only for a set of claws to swipe at his leg. They dug into the thick black fur of his leg, but they did not pierce skin. Using the blunted end of the ax, Galal jabbed the creature in the ribs, causing it to leap back from him with a roar. A challenge.

Bracing himself, Galal took in all the air he could and let out his own mighty roar, the sound reverberating throughout the arena. The horned animal retreated from the sound, its tail curled around its hind leg. Even their audience was taken aback, and their scents quickly change once again. More fear.

Another sound blasted through the arena, the air seemingly vibrating as it boomed. The talker stood from his seat, about to move, but he was too late. Galal was the first to notice the other set of wooden doors creaking. He tightened his grip on the ax as they burst open into a hail of splinters, a cloven foot instinctively stepping back.

It was a titanic beast, a monster of rough brown skin and a series of black thorns and hard petals. It charged towards the smaller beast, cowering on the side. It started to run, but it was caught in the jaws of the monster, the animal immediately splitting into two halves.

Galal did not wait as it chewed its prey, charging the beast himself. He swung the ax blade at its front leg, carving halfway through. It roared again, the boom vibrating the air around Galal as it brought its head around. Galal pulled back, removing the ax. He lunged, ax swinging high, and brought its edge down. It collided with the creature’s armored neck, cutting deep and lodging the weapon.

The creature twisted around again, the ax pulled from his hands, its edge still embedded in the monster. It lashed out with a spiked tail that soared over Galal’s head as he ducked. He moved back to distance himself, but it followed, relentless. Giant teeth chomped on empty air as Galal backed away. He waited for it to bite again, barely stepping out of the way of its teeth, and leapt up over its head.

Thrashing, the monster turned its head frantically as it tried to reach him, but he was too far. Standing unsteadily on its back, Galal grabbed hold of the ax and pulled, ripping it away. The monster screeched as it thrashed about, sending Galal to the ground. He stood immediately, weapon ready, but the monster continued to thrash in a wild fashion.

Its head went around in circles, its feet stomped without cause, its tail smashed against the ground time and time again. The beast had lost its sense, and Galal would not allow such an opportunity to leave him. He bolted, circling the beast as he searched for a vantage point. Slowly, he closed in, focusing on the spontaneous movements of its limbs as he lined up another strike. The moment came, and Galal brought the ax’s edge down with his full might on the monster’s neck, the same spot as before. It cut deep, the ax head swallowed into the beast’s wound and out of view.

Galal pulled the ax straight back, the head catching on more armored flesh, and as he pulled the armored skin tore away, splitting apart as his weapon was pulled free. Blood poured from the wound, leaving the ground covered in dark red puddles. The creature’s limbs gave out, and the hulking titan collapsed onto the ground.

He could see it. Bone. A piece of the spine, rather, sticking out from the gore and sinew or torn flesh. The creature’s spine had been close to the surface, an easy place to strike at. No doubt few creatures would have the power to break through, nor the speed.

He lifted the ax into the air with both hands, pushing out all of the air within him as he roared to the crowd above. He was the victor. He had one. Still, he did not see the beasts tail rise, nor did he see it swing, but he felt it. He felt as it smashed against his ribs, felt his feet leave the ground, and he felt as he landed against hard ground.

He stood. Galal was a champion. A single blow would not do. He picked up the ax that had been launched from his hands and walked to the beast once again. He lifted the weapon high and brought it down, slicing the end of its tail off. He moved again, this time to the neck, his ax raised to the sky before being brought down to slice away at red flesh. He repeated the motion, over and over and over again, oblivious to the stares of the crowd.

No one tried to stop him. No one spoke. The beast was long dead, no more a monster than a fallen tree, but he did not stop. Not until his weapon broke apart, the handle caving in, the head of the ax dangling from wooden splinters. He threw the weapon down and yelled at the fallen foe, his roar carrying long enough to burn his lungs.

Galal stopped and looked at his work. The head was nearly severed, a mere few strands of flesh still connected, the rest torn, split, and diced apart into a slurry of blood and meat. Then he turned. He was done.