Lord Andrew huffed as they went to one side of the circular arena. "This is terrible luck. You have to win the match after this one, Hector. Absolutely have to. How did you so anger this man?"

Hector suspected this unexpected curve ball to his hands came about as a conflict over a woman. He didn't want to tell his sponsor that, so he presented a palatable lie instead. "Lord Andrew, I have the second best body enhancement after him. I think he sees me as his greatest opponent and seeks to challenge me early."

A throaty whine emitted from the lord. "Sound strategy on his part. Win all the rest of your matches after this one, Hector."

Though he agreed with the lord's assessment, Hector wished they could at least pretend that he stood a chance of this not being an utter disaster. Across the ring from him, the epic specimen that was Micah popped his neck in both directions while waiting. A strange thought occurred to Hector. Was this what people felt when they sized him up? He was by no means a small man himself. The difference was that he had an impressive physique on a normal frame while his opponent looked like he should be winning strong man competitions.

Master Percival yelled for them to fight. Both fighters moved forward at a sedate pace. Hector didn't want to rush in and Micah appeared to be relishing his moment in the spotlight. The man glanced to the dugout and Hector let his eyes dart to the side for a moment. Jasmine was shaking her head 'no' while holding her palms together in a beseeching gesture.

That was equal parts sad and heartwarming. She cared. She also had no faith in him.

Micah crouched and sprinted at him. Hector's response was to jump.

That apparently was not something Micah expected. He slid to a stop as Hector flipped over top of him. Hector, meanwhile, realized that he wasn't going to land on his feet. He tucked his chin and turned his fall into a roll. As he came out of the roll, he finished on his feet and ran several steps to shed momentum. Behind him, Micah landed on a bare patch of ground, having leaped forward to grapple him.

Hector drove his heel into the back of his opponent's head, causing Micah to eat a face full of clay. He was about to kick again when Micah seized his calf. Hector kept his balance with a great deal of effort, but that delay let Micah sit up to his knees. The large man punched Hector's quad just above the knee along the IT band.

Pain. Hector almost fell. He knew that his bones were sturdy enough to endure just about anything, but for a moment he thought his femur had been snapped in half. The bone was fine, though. The muscles over top of it? Not so much.

An uppercut knocked Hector onto his back. A stomp hit one of his ribs.

Without any conscious planning, Hector spun on his back and kicked the legs out from under Micah. The man landed on his ass and Hector drove his heel hard into a jaw, sending Micah crashing to his back. Micah did not stay down. In a moment they were both on their feet, the larger man swarming Hector with punches.

Each fist landed like a sledgehammer. Hector felt them raining down on arms, head, and torso. He threw fists back but that only opened him up for counters in a situation where he was seriously disadvantaged. He seized an arm and attempted to throw his opponent. While Micah was bracing himself, Hector used his grip to pull himself forward and drove his knee into Micah's leg, returning the IT band attack that had so impacted him.

Micah growled and seized Hector's leg. He was leaning forward to punch while still holding his trophy when Hector came forward to drive the point of his elbow straight into Micah's eye socket, sending his opponent stumbling back with both hands cradling his face.

Hector just started to advance when Micah tackled him in a blur of motion. On the ground once more, Micah crawled on top and rained hammer fists on Hector's face. Hector felt the bruises swelling into existence in real time. His best attempts at defense were no more than uncoordinated thrashing. He was in a bad position with his wits scrambled. It wasn't going well and his anger and frustration only made him easier to counter.

Fortunately, Lord Andrew yielded the fight on Hector's behalf. As Micah was hauled away by Master Percival, Hector popped to his feet. He swayed unsteadily, but he was still feeling hot from his loss. It was important to some primitive area of his brain that he demonstrate that, even in defeat, he still had fight in him.

When Lord Andrew patted his arm, Hector almost threw an elbow. He caught himself in time and turned to give one of the theatrical bows that marked him as a cultural outsider. Lord Andrew whispered 'win the next one' before jumping out of the arena.

Hector sat heavily in an open spot of the dugout, one far from Micah. Beside him, Carob studied his face. "At least it wasn't a girl," he finally offered as a consolation gift. Hector knew the swelling was bad. His vision was becoming impacted as his face puffed up on his cheeks and forehead to obstruct his peripheral vision. He also felt a huge lump forming above his hairline.

Next up, Evan faced off against one of the few other women in the tournament. She was a woman who looked manlier than most men and had called out the red-headed loud-mouth. The fight was swift and did not go the way the challenger might have wished. Evan ran forward and flew through the air to land a knee on her chin. When she dropped, Evan simply walked back to the dugout without waiting for Percival to call his victory. It left quite an impression with the crowd.

Hector found himself sorely disappointed. He really wanted for Evan to be a loser who only talked big. This was a lesson to him. One he'd learned several times in the past but apparently needed to keep learning. The world wasn't a fair place. Just because someone was a bad person didn't mean they wouldn't get good outcomes. Karma was a crap shoot at best.

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Another five fights followed, only one of which held Hector's attention. Darius brutally took out his opponent with a series of strikes the two of them had drilled endlessly during sparring. Hector was hurting pretty badly and most of the action on the clay arena seemed too amateurish to keep his attention. Then they were marched away to the cafeteria for a lunch of bread with dipping sauce. Medical attendants looked over each of them. The healer who saw to Hector had the brilliant idea to have him dunk his head in a bucket of water to bring the swelling down. Who knows, it might even have helped. Hector only knew that the painful swelling eventually stopped getting worse.

The other gladiators eyed him over the break. Some seemed sympathetic, like Sam and Jasmine. Others were clearly sizing him up. He'd done well for himself, he knew. Certainly the vicious battle lasted longer than Hector imagined beforehand. He even managed to get a few strikes in. Not that Micah showed any sign of injury now.

Master Percival gathered them together not long before it was time for the afternoon matches. "Everyone has gone once at this point. For the afternoon match, those of you who have won will be rewarded. You will come forward in the order you fought and choose your next opponent. You may not choose another victor, only from among the vanquished. Any questions?"

Jasmine raised her hand. "Master Percival, when do we receive our elixirs?"

"Those will be disbursed after the matches are done for the day."

They were given a little longer to rest and recover. Then it was back to the dugout. Hector sat there, breathing through his mouth because his nasal passages had swollen shut, looking through the tunnel formed by his fattened cheeks. Just waiting for someone to pick him as the easy target. He knew they were all thinking it. With the resources on the line, why wouldn't they take advantage of his condition?

The first person to win a fight had been Walt. He took his spot and called out the loser of the second battle – the most pathetic match of the day where neither opponent looked good. Walt bowed to the guy, ran forward, and knocked him out with a single elbow. As quick as that, the silent Walt could expect two elixirs.

Then the winner of the second match came forth. He was better than the loser only by virtue of his better cardio. The dopey fellow stood up there and everyone waited to see who he thought it safest to challenge. When his name was called, Hector almost smiled. He resisted the urge because his face hurt so very much.

Lord Andrew smirked at his side. "Be brutal about it, Hector."

Hector nodded in an agreement he didn't intend to keep. He was practicing virtues, after all.

Master Percival started the fight and the dopey moron strolled straight forward. Hector moved forward to meet him, hands held at shoulder height, ready for anything. The dope launched a looping haymaker as soon as he was in range. Hector raised his left arm to block. He hissed when the blow landed on the patchwork of bruises that covered his limb, but didn't hesitate to punch his right fist straight down the pipe.

The dope flinched back from the strike. Hector stepped forward and threw a jab with his left. His opponent evaded by leaning far to one side, so Hector pushed him off balance. The man collapsed to the ground and Hector methodically worked his way around his downed opponent, pinning with hands and shoulders until he was past the legs and able to lay cross body.

Then Hector got to work. He landed hammer fists and elbows and knees to the ribs on both sides until his opponent began screaming his surrender. The sponsoring lord swore loudly and yielded the match on behalf of his fighter. Lord Andrew raised his hands to the sky to accept the scattered applause given to Hector.

Back on the bench of the dugout, Hector settled in to relax. Jasmine called out one of the other women and won handily. Micah called out Sam and gave the man a beating worse than what Hector endured. It was brutal and mean and obviously personal. On Evan's turn, he called out the third and final woman of their cohort of twenty. He beat her quickly with a knee to the gut that left her vomiting and unable to take a full breath.

Hector lost track of the matches after that. He didn't even see Darius fight. Maybe dunking his head in water had helped earlier, but now he was feeling truly terrible. Just how hard had he been hit? As he looked at Sam, he imagined it must have been quite hard. The friendly gladiator lay on the ground instead of sitting on the bench, his gurgling inhalations concerning everyone within earshot.

After the last fight, they were brought onto the arena as a whole group to receive their elixirs. Walt, Jasmine, Micah, Evan, and Darius received two. Five others received none – among them Sam. The rest of them were given a single elixir.

They opened their vials and downed them in front of the audience, then returned the empty glassware to the attendants. They were made to stand there until the lords departed, then taken to the cafeteria for a quick meal. It was cubed beef over rice with a single goblet of wine and a baked apple sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar. Normal food, as promised. Though the wine might be pushing the definition a bit.

He struggled to chew but forced it to happen, knowing he'd need the protein for his recovery. The wine he welcomed as much for the analgesic effect as the cosmic energy boost. He pushed the dessert in front of Carob, who eagerly accepted.

Back in the barracks, Hector lay down and used the energies of the fish plasma elixir for his body enhancement. He didn't dare push it towards the wounded portions of his body. Though it could speed up his healing, there was also a non-negligible chance it would cause his body aperture to fuse into a permanently wounded state.

Instead, he pursued his new plan to proceed out of order. Hector finished both lungs and the windpipe. That cleared out his reserves. Instead of sleeping then, he went to the washroom and splashed himself with water to take away some of the heat of his injuries.

"You did good rallying for your second fight," Jasmine said.

"I'd have to be on my deathbed to lose to that dope."

"Do you know not to enhance the wounded body parts?"

He nodded without turning around to look at her. "I know more than I let on when I first arrived here, Jasmine."

"Yes, you know all about elixirs."

"I wasn't asking you to throw your fights, Jasmine. The opposite, actually. I suspect something bad will happen to the bottom four at the end of the unarmed combat round."

"I appreciate your concern, Hector. I really do. But I don't need a mother."

She left him alone then. Hector claimed a stall and began to cultivate chaos. He needed every advantage he could get.

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