Champion Of The Arena

OOC: So I've waited over a month, for someone to move the game forward in time I'm not waiting any longer.

Signar crouched in the center of the arena, his body a fluid mass of mud constantly shifting and reforming beneath his obsidian outer layer. Each motion was deliberate, each ripple of his form calculated to intimidate the roaring crowd. Around him, the sand of the Colosseum baked under the triple suns, the air heavy with heat and anticipation. Above the noise, the gates of the opposite side creaked open, releasing a six-story monstrosity that silenced the masses with its sheer presence.

The creature was an amalgamation of writhing tentacles, dark green flesh glistening with an otherworldly sheen, and countless glowing eyes that moved independently of one another. Its name, unpronounceable by human tongues, reverberated in the minds of all who dared gaze upon it. It was a force of nature, a living nightmare drawn from the darkest corners of the universe.

Signar’s featureless face turned toward the beast, his form elongating as he prepared himself. Though made of mud, his kind were far from fragile. They were sculpted by necessity, adaptable and cunning. In Signar’s chest, the faint blue glow of his core pulsed, its rhythm steady despite the overwhelming odds before him. He gripped his sword—a blade forged of compressed stardust—its edge shimmering faintly. The weapon felt foreign in his hands, though he knew it intimately.

A bell chimed, low and resonant, signaling the start of the match. The monster surged forward, tentacles lashing out. Signar dodged with liquid grace, his body just barely able to avoid a crushing blow. He struck back, his sword slicing cleanly through one of the appendages. The severed piece writhed on the ground before dissolving into vapor, but the beast hardly noticed.

Their battle was brutal and unrelenting, the arena shaking with each collision. Yet for all his adaptability, Signar was being worn down. The creature’s attacks were relentless, each one testing his ability to reform, to endure. The crowd roared with bloodlust, but Signar’s focus was elsewhere. His core burned with an ache he couldn’t place. A memory, buried deep, teased at the edges of his mind.

Then it happened. A single tentacle, glowing faintly with an unnatural light, brushed Signar’s core. Time seemed to freeze as his consciousness was yanked from his body and plunged into a void. When he opened his senses again, he was no longer in the arena.

The landscape was alien and surreal. A sea of stars stretched infinitely above, and below him, a mirror-like surface reflected a distorted version of himself. Across the expanse stood the monster, its form shifting and unstable. This was no longer a battle of physical prowess. This was a war of minds.

“You are but clay,” the creature’s voice echoed in his thoughts, a chorus of despair and madness. “A puppet shaped by forces you do not understand. You cannot win.”
Signar’s form wavered but held firm. “Clay remembers the hands that shape it,” he replied, his mental voice steady. “I may not remember now, but I will.”

The creature’s laugh was a cascade of sound that threatened to unravel him. Memories he didn’t know he had began to surface, flashes of a life before the arena. A world of mudscapes and kindred spirits. A name whispered by a voice he couldn’t place. Signar. A name that was his yet felt foreign. The mind-clamp tightened, dulling the images, but the beast’s intrusion had weakened it.

Signar’s will surged. If this monster could force its way into his mind, then perhaps he could do the same. He reached out, his essence extending like tendrils through the mental void, searching for cracks in the creature’s defenses. What he found was chaos. The beast’s mind was a storm of memories and thoughts, each more alien and incomprehensible than the last. Yet at the center was something familiar: a restraint, a mind-clamp.

“Go cage yourself,” Signar realized aloud, his mental voice cutting through the storm. “Fear the vastness of what you are.”

The creature roared, its mental storm intensifying, but it was too late. Signar’s essence coiled around the restraint, mimicking its design. With a thought, he activated it, switching the mind-clamp from his own mind to his enemies’ mind. The storm ceased. The beast’s form wavered and collapsed, its countless eyes dimming. The mental void dissolved, and Signar found himself back in the arena.

The crowd’s roar was distant, muffled by the ringing in his core. Before him, the massive creature lay motionless, its body twitching as if caught in a dream. Signar rose, his form reconstituting itself with newfound purpose. The sword in his hand felt lighter now, familiar. He approached the beast, each step deliberate.

Raising the blade high, he plunged it into the creature’s core. The impact sent a shockwave through the arena, silencing the crowd as the monster’s body disintegrated into ash. The battle was over.

Signar stood amidst the ruins of his opponent, his chest heaving with exertion. The mind-clamp gone, memories continued to stir, faint but persistent. He glanced at the crowd, their faces a blur of awe and fear.

He was more than their champion. He was a being shaped by forces greater than they could comprehend. And now, he said, “I remember…everything.”