The Monarchy - by

I awake from my mental monologue and remember the gladiator. He now stands over me with a grin on his helmeted face. He grabs me and throws me down again and again until I feel woozy. He snatches his trident and loathes over me.
He gives a small grunt and shoves the blade right for my neck. I do as my instincts tell me. I roll. But my instincts are too late. The left blade has clipped my right arm. I yell in agonizing pain and the crowd roars.