Dael stood on the sands and felt blood run down his fingertips. He watched The Spaniard and The Hebrew finish each other off. A double kill was entertaining, but it cut down on the competition a little too quickly.
The Mace spun around, spiked club held high, and roared.
Dael wasn't much one for animalistic tendencies. He'd watched The Mace, knew his rhythm. "You want to dance? Let's dance."
When he closed his eyes, he was dancing with Flavia through the rolling fields outside Rome.
When he opened his eyes, he was standing over The Mace, one step closer to freedom.
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