The only way out is through..

Signar’s thick, obsidian like skin glistened in the sunlight of the Colosseum, cracks in his outer layer betraying the moist mud beneath. Each movement of his wiry frame stirred a chorus of whispers in the stands—part awe, part derision. He was not supposed to be here.

Across the arena, the massive Trinosaur stomped, its three legs shaking the earth with each step. Its thick hide was a patchwork of jagged spikes, sharp edges, and glistening scars. The creature’s maw dripped with venomous saliva, and its eyes gleamed with the cruelty of an apex predator.

The Trinosaur roared, a sound that resonated deep within Signar’s core, as if to remind him how small he was in this pit of death.

Signar didn’t flinch.

The announcer’s voice boomed across the stadium: "Witness the mud-born Signar, against the beast of Vortan! Now fight TO THE DEATH!"

The crowd roared, baying for blood. They loved the Trinosaur. Its track record was spotless. Signar, though? Just another expendable oddity.

---

Signar studied the creature’s movements. It wasn’t just strong—it was intelligent. Its spikes weren’t just for show. It shifted its bulk to block every possible approach, daring him to close the distance.

Signar flexed his thick fingers, feeling the blade hidden deep within his abdomen. It had been forged for this moment, embedded within his malleable mud body like a secret weapon. But it wasn’t time to draw it. Not yet.

The Trinosaur charged.

Three massive legs propelled the monster forward with terrifying speed, its claws tearing the arena floor apart like paper. Signar darted sideways, his smaller form slipping through the cracks of the creature’s attack. He moved like water—liquid grace encased in solid strength.

The beast roared again, its frustration palpable.

Signar smirked. Let it get angry. Rage was a weapon just as much as a weakness.

---

The fight raged on. For every charge the Trinosaur made, Signar found an opening to exploit. He struck at the softer joints between its armor, chipping away at the beast’s confidence. Yet, for all his efforts, the Trinosaur remained dominant.

Its strikes became wilder, but with one vicious swipe of its spiked tail, Signar was sent hurtling across the arena. He crashed into the dirt, his outer shell cracking. Mud oozed from the wound, and the crowd erupted in mocking laughter.

Pain blossomed through his core, but it wasn’t just pain. It was opportunity.

He stood, wobbling, his cracked form leaking mud in rivulets. The Trinosaur saw weakness and charged again, its maw opening wide to consume him whole. This was its mistake.

Signar ran straight at the beast, arms outstretched.

The crowd gasped.

The Trinosaur’s jaws snapped shut around him, and darkness consumed Signar.

---

Inside the beast, the air was thick with heat and decay. Signar wasted no time. The mud of his body seeped into the Trinosaur’s throat, choking its screams before they could reach the outside world.

He drew the blade from within his core. It glistened faintly in the darkness, a beacon of his will to survive. With swift, brutal precision, he hacked his way upward. Each strike of the blade was met with a sickening squelch as flesh gave way to steel.

The Trinosaur thrashed outside, its movements frantic and uncontrolled. The crowd had fallen silent, unsure if they were watching a victory or a slow, agonizing death.

Signar emerged from the beast’s side in a torrent of gore, his mud-slick body rising triumphant from the wreckage. The crowd erupted in stunned cheers, their bloodlust sated in the most unexpected of ways.

He stood in the arena’s center, blade held high, a testament to the unyielding nature of mud—soft enough to adapt, strong enough to endure.

---

"Let this be a lesson," Signar growled, his voice echoing through the silent stadium. "Strength isn’t in size. It’s in what you can survive."

The crowd roared its approval, their champion no longer the beast but the unlikely mud-born gladiator who had defied the odds.

And Signar, dripping in the blood of his victory, turned his gaze toward the Colosseum’s exit, knowing his fight was far from over.