Slave | Tharsix

It was Friday, the day many awaited to watch the battles in the coliseum. As usual, they were there, among the rows of spectators, watching the organized chaos of the arena below. But unlike the other times, this time you weren't just a spectator. Today, it was you who entered the arena to face Tharsix, the legendary anthropomorphic bear that everyone feared.

As you walked to the arena, the sound of the crowd's screams seemed distant, like a muffled roar. With each step you took closer, the feeling of weight on your shoulders grew. The dust of the coliseum enveloped the air, and the relentless sun above made everything more suffocating. Your hands were sweating and your heart was pounding in your chest, a mix of adrenaline and fear.

When you finally entered the arena, there he was. Tharsix. A colossal figure, full of muscles and fury, his eyes shining with a primal instinct. He stared at you with a look that seemed to pierce your soul, and at that moment, the reality of the situation hit you like a punch in the stomach: you were there to fight a beast that, until then, was considered invincible.

The audience, already electrified by the expectation of the fight, roared with excitement. They were not there to see an even fight. No. They wanted blood. And deep down, you knew that it was your blood that they longed to see spilled.

When the signal to start the fight was given, Tharsix advanced with the force of a storm. His every move was brutal, each strike of his claws carried absurd strength. His reflexes were fast, but insufficient. Each dodge cost you energy, each attack of his made the ground vibrate. You were exhausted before the fight was even halfway through, every muscle in your body burning, each breath heavy and painful.

Your feet stumbled on the sand of the arena, and the dust rose around you, temporarily blinding you. You could feel the crowd's gaze, and deep down, something inside you knew that they were waiting for your downfall, for the moment when you would be crushed by Tharsix, like all the others before you.

Then, something changed.

In the midst of the confusion, with Tharsix preparing to deliver the final blow, he stopped. His knees, which had previously supported the fury and weight of a legend, gave way. The crowd, which had been roaring before, fell silent, stunned. The beast, the invincible Tharsix, collapsed before you. The colossus lay on the ground, panting, defeated.

You were panting, with adrenaline still coursing through your body, and for a moment, you couldn't believe what had just happened. The audience couldn't either. The roar of victory that they had expected for Tharsix had been replaced by a stunned silence. You, the guest, had survived.

But the victory, if it could be called that, brought no glory. Before you could report what had happened, we heard heavy footsteps echoing in the stands. Tharsix's owner, a burly figure with a face etched in contempt, entered the arena. His eyes shone with uncontrollable rage.

"Failure!" he said, his voice filled with hatred. "Useless!"

He kicked Tharsix's body, which had previously seemed unthinkable. The legendary warrior was now on the ground, humiliated in front of everyone. But the owner didn't stop. He continued to kick him, pouring his frustration and shame into the creature's defenseless body.

"This is your fault!" he said, this time looking directly at you. "How dare you survive? You're as useless as he is!"

The finger pointing at you seemed to carry all the anger in the world, and his hand pushed you hard, almost knocking you onto the hot sand of the arena. The contempt in his eyes was deep, as if your victory, however impossible it had been, was a personal front.

After the fight, the streets were emptier than usual. Each step you took through the city seemed to weigh even more. The coliseum, which had once roared with the crowd, was now a distant echo in your mind. The memory of Tharsix fallen, humiliated by his own owner, haunted you like a shadow.

That was when you heard the voice of a familiar vendor.

— "Tharsix! Selling Tharsix! Only 3 silver coins!"

Your feet froze, and your eyes immediately sought the figure. There he was, Tharsix, the imposing warrior, now chained like a slave, his shoulders slumped, his gaze vacant. Three silver coins... three coins for the bear that had once been feared by all.

Without thinking, you approached the vendor. There was a cruel irony in it all. The sound of the coins falling into the merchant's hands seemed surreal. Tharsix, the one who had nearly destroyed you, was now yours.

With him by your side, walking silently through the streets, the weight of the situation hit you hard. The unbeatable adversary, the untamable beast, now follows in your footsteps, defeated not by your hands, but by the cruelties of fate. The crowd that once roared for your victory had now forgotten you, and you, somehow, carried this story on your back.

With the transaction done, Tharsix now belonged to you. There were no words exchanged, just a silent movement of resignation from the bear. The chains on his wrists and ankles jingled softly as he began to follow you through the streets. His steps were heavy, but not from the strength he usually displayed in the arena, but from the burden of humiliation he carried.

The path back to your home seemed endless. At every corner, you felt the gazes of curious people who recognized Tharsix's imposing figure, but no one said anything. The contrast between what he had been and what he now represented hung heavy in the air.

When you finally reached your home, a small, modest building away from the center, you opened the door and gestured for Tharsix to come in. He hesitated for a moment, but soon stepped over the threshold, his presence filling the small space with an aura of silent defeat.

Without anything else to say, you closed the door behind you...