Reversal

The two men at the center of the arena panted heavily, their chests rising and falling.

The battle had been going on for quite some time. The frenzied reactions of the spectators in the stands showed just how satisfied they were with this match.

After only a few simple probes, Bach and Rufus had immediately fallen into a fierce melee.

Muscle against muscle, slash against cleave. Weapons and shields clashed without cease as blood and sweat flew through the air, filling the entire arena with masculine fervor.

By now, Rufus had to admit that he had underestimated the newcomer before him. Bach might still have been somewhat rough in his combat techniques, a common flaw among rookies, but he possessed an innate instinct for danger.

Every trap Rufus set was seen through at the last moment, and the cunning Germanic warrior even turned those traps against him. The wound at Rufus's waist was the best proof of that.

Bach's sword strike had been vicious, nearly cutting to the bone. But after the referee called a halt for an examination, the battle was declared fit to continue.

Rufus had long since grown used to such things.

This was the fate of gladiators. Unless one side was too badly injured to move or surrendered, the battle would continue.

Rufus was accustomed to fighting while wounded, but the injury at his waist did affect his subsequent movements, especially his dodges. Fortunately, Bach was not in much better shape; Rufus had stabbed him in the calf earlier as well.

The two of them had merely returned to the same starting line.

In the battle that followed, both deliberately exploited the other's weakness. Rufus forced Bach to place more of his weight on his injured leg, while Bach made Rufus constantly twist his waist.

Blood