The Son of a Legend
The Thunderhorn charged like a living avalanche.
Its massive body tore across the arena floor, throwing sand and dust into the air. Blue lightning crackled violently around its horns, illuminating the battlefield with flashes of electric light.
The spectators screamed with excitement.
Many had already placed bets on how quickly Marcus Thorn would die.
Most expected the battle to last less than a minute.
Marcus had other plans.
As the monster thundered toward him, he remained perfectly still.
The distance closed rapidly.
Fifty feet.
Forty.
Thirty.
Twenty.
Ten.
At the very last moment, Marcus threw himself sideways.
The Thunderhorn missed him by inches.
A powerful gust of wind followed the beast as it rushed past.
The crowd gasped.
Marcus rolled across the sand and quickly returned to his feet.
The monster skidded to a halt before turning around.
Its glowing eyes locked onto him once again.
The beast was angry.
And angry monsters were dangerous.
High above the arena, nobles watched from the royal viewing platform.
Many seemed surprised.
A few even applauded.
One elderly noble stroked his beard thoughtfully.
"Interesting."
Another nodded.
"He survived the first charge."
The man dressed in black remained silent.
His cold eyes never left Marcus.
He watched the young gladiator with unusual interest.
Almost as if he were searching for something.
Back on the battlefield, Marcus studied the Thunderhorn carefully.
His father had taught him an important lesson years ago.
"Never fight a monster's strength."
"Find its weakness."
Most gladiators attacked immediately.
Most gladiators died immediately.
Marcus preferred patience.
The Thunderhorn lowered its head again.
Lightning exploded across its horns.
The beast charged.
Once more, the arena shook.
Again Marcus waited.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Then he moved.
This time he sprinted directly toward the monster.
The crowd erupted in confusion.
Had he gone mad?
Even experienced warriors watching from the sidelines stared in disbelief.
Nobody charged a Thunderhorn.
Nobody.
Yet Marcus did exactly that.
The monster roared as its massive body raced forward.
At the last possible second, Marcus slid beneath its neck.
The giant beast thundered overhead.
Sand exploded around him.
For a brief moment, Marcus found himself directly beneath the creature.
And there he saw it.
A weakness.
A narrow gap between the scales near the front leg.
Small.
Difficult to reach.
But vulnerable.
Marcus smiled.
Now he understood how to kill it.
The Thunderhorn spun around furiously.
Its patience was disappearing.
The creature stomped the ground.
Lightning surged through the arena floor.
Spectators nearest the battlefield pulled back nervously.
Marcus remained focused.
Every movement.
Every breath.
Every attack.
He memorized everything.
The monster charged again.
This time faster.
More aggressive.
The battle had become personal.
As Marcus prepared for another attack, memories surfaced.
Five years earlier.
He had been only seventeen.
The arena had looked much the same.
The same walls.
The same crowd.
The same thirst for violence.
He remembered standing beside his father before the legendary warrior's final battle.
"Stay home," his father had told him.
"I'll be back before sunset."
Marcus remembered smiling.
"Bring me another victory trophy."
His father laughed.
Then walked into the arena.
Marcus never saw him again.
The memory still haunted him.
Five years later, he was standing on the same battlefield.
Fighting for answers.
Fighting for family.
Fighting for truth.
The Thunderhorn attacked once more.
This time Marcus was ready.
The creature charged directly toward him.
The crowd stood from their seats.
No one wanted to miss what happened next.
Marcus sprinted forward.
The distance closed rapidly.
The monster roared.
Lightning flashed.
Sand exploded.
Then Marcus jumped.
He landed on the side of the beast.
The crowd gasped.
Using the creature's scales for support, he climbed upward with astonishing speed.
The Thunderhorn bucked violently.
Trying to throw him off.
Marcus held on.
The entire arena erupted into chaos.
People screamed.
Cheered.
Shouted.
They had never seen anything like this.
The beast slammed into a stone pillar.
Cracks spread through the ancient structure.
Chunks of rock collapsed onto the battlefield.
Marcus barely avoided being crushed.
Still he climbed.
Higher.
Closer to the creature's neck.
The Thunderhorn roared in frustration.
Lightning exploded around its body.
Several sparks struck Marcus's armor.
Pain shot through his arms.
Yet he refused to let go.
His target was near.
The vulnerable gap between the scales.
One strike.
That was all he needed.
The monster reared upward.
For a moment, Marcus nearly lost his balance.
Thousands of spectators watched breathlessly.
Even the royal platform had fallen silent.
The man dressed in black leaned forward slightly.
For the first time, genuine interest appeared on his face.
Marcus reminded him of someone.
Someone he once knew.
Someone who had also refused to die.
Marcus reached the creature's neck.
The opening between the scales was directly below him.
Now.
This was his chance.
He raised his spear.
The Thunderhorn sensed danger.
The beast roared louder than ever before.
Lightning erupted around the battlefield.
The entire arena seemed to shake.
Marcus gripped the weapon tightly.
Years of training.
Years of searching.
Years of pain.
Everything had led to this moment.
With all his strength, he drove the spear downward.
The crowd screamed.
The Thunderhorn let out a deafening roar.
Blue lightning exploded into the sky.
Blood sprayed across the black scales.
The monster staggered.
Its enormous body swayed.
For one terrifying moment, nobody knew what would happen next.
Would the beast fall?
Or would Marcus be thrown to his death?
The answer came suddenly.
The Thunderhorn reared upward one final time.
And Marcus lost his grip.
The young gladiator was launched high into the air above the arena.
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Thousands watched in horror as he tumbled toward the ground.
Below him, the wounded Thunderhorn prepared one last desperate attack.
