Seeing his opponent, the musclebound Northman leaned back laughing. “My breakfast was bigger than you, Albioner!”
Clad in a loincloth and unsure of how to hold his net and trident, every inch of the Pict’s pale, scrawny and freckled frame was on display.
The colosseum crowd jeered the redhead. Compared to the mighty Northman, he seemed like an underfed child.
Burkka clanged his gladius upon his round shield. “I like a quick kill!”
The short and wiry Pict tossed aside his net and trident. “Ta Hades wit’ dis!”
There were boos from the stands, and Burkka sneered. “There ain’t nowhere to run, coward!”
Now unarmed, the scrappy Pict snapped his fingers. An awed noise rolled from the crowd seeing a green aura flare around his hands.
“Who’s runnin’? We’s fightin’!”
A pair of wildly oversized, translucent green gauntlets materialized around the Pict’s fists. Squinting a wink at shocked Burkka above a brawler’s grin, he raised a glowing middle finger.
“What wizardry is this?!” the big man bellowed.
The crowd cheered the spectacle of Burkka’s charge, and the Pict’s leap to hurl a giant punch. With a great clatter, the gladiator’s helm flew into the stands.
Caught by a plebeian, his head was still in it.
All eyes on him, the Albioner gave a huge thumbs-down.
Copyright © 2019 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.
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