A trace of blood drifted through the air, mingled with stifling heat.
Bona walked along the empty avenue, his lone figure the only one on the straight road.
The once-noisy Blood Sanctuary was unusually quiet. The clash of weapons and roars of battle had vanished, and even its murderous atmosphere seemed to have fallen deathly still.
Bona reached the Brass Fortress at its center. Scalding magma poured from brass ram heads into the moat, and the bones of the defeated hung upon the towering walls-the remains of all who had dared challenge the Blood God's authority.
The enormous drawbridge creaked, then crashed down in front of Bona.
He gazed into the dark depths of the fortress, steadied himself, and stepped inside. He climbed the brass steps and passed through corridors lit by flames spewing from bronze bulls, until he reached the foot of the Throne.
Upon the Throne sat a figure clad in jet-black armor. Like a tyrant from hell, he struck fear into even the mightiest warriors merely by sitting there.
His helmet shifted, then he lowered his head to look at Bona.
"You've finally come."
"You're the only one left," Bona replied.
The Blood God chuckled softly, then broke into unrestrained laughter.
"Ha ha ha! Good, good! Just what I'd expect from the man I chose."
"You dealt with those three bastards. Very good."
He rested both hands on the armrests, then rose and slowly descended from the Throne.
"Since you've come this far, you must already know what awaits you."
"I won't test your mind or soul again as they did. I'll only see whether you have enough strength."
Suddenly, the Brass Fortress shook violently. The ground shattered, and magma surged through the fissures, drowning the sacred ground encircled by the eight arenas.
Unholy fire from the