Baroque · Stories
Zorak's Wrath
Draven Zorak walks into the gladiator ring to face five men, in front of a crowd chanting his name.
7/22/25 1940
"ZO-RAK! ZO-RAK! ZO-RAK!"
The crowd chants in such perfect synchronization, thousands of voices folded down into one. They collectively follow up by synchronously stomping their feet; STOMP STOMP — STOMP STOMP — STOMP STOMP. Dust lifts off the floor of the ring and hangs there, refusing to settle. The crowd, barbaric at heart but civil at glance, men and women alike, go crazy.
A large, old, giant, wooden door with rusty medieval metal lining gets pulled up by a near pristine condition rope within one of the walls of the Gladiator Ring. It groans the whole way. Out walks a man.
"ZO-RAK! ZO-RAK! ZO-RAK!"
The symphony of stomps shook the ring.
In the middle of the ring are five shirtless men in underwear. They all seem relatively fit and healthy. Gleaming skin, toned muscles, a skeptical look. They look forward, glancing at the man walking out. Some look with confidence, and some shattered with fear.
As he enters the warm hug of the sun, his left arm glistens. He performs slow arm circles with it, and the whole limb catches the light in one solid sheet — a pristine, threatening metal alloy, joint plates sliding over each other like something alive. This man is so youthful. He has such a confident look in his eyes. His eyes are that of a predator and they are locked at the five other men.
He continues approaching. The sun reflects off his bald head and his medieval gladiator armor shines through the ring. The armor appears to be really light weight, more decoration than defense. On his back and belt are an assortment of weapons; spears, knives, maces and swords. He unbuckles all of it in one motion and throws it down in the sand in front of the five opposing men. The pile clatters and settles.
"Choose your weapons wisely."
He glances at all five men. He makes sure to lock eyes with each man for exactly two seconds, no more, no less. His eyes speak nothing but pure admiration and respect.
The five men choose their weapons. Two men pick knives. One picks a spear. One man dual wields two short maces. The last man, taller than the rest and far too calm for a man about to die, waits until the pile is picked over before he takes the sword.
The bald man takes off his heavy shoulder plates and throws them to the ground. He turns his back to the five men and looks up at the crowd whilst raising his hands with pure explosiveness.
The show will commence.
"ARRGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" He yells with pure barbaric intent.
The crowd goes wild. More stomps, more screams. People begin throwing shirts, flowers and other trinkets down into the ring. They rain into the sand around him. The gladiator ring shakes with passion.
The bald man turns around to the men with nothing but an over the top smile. His teeth are out and about. He is insane, a complete psychopath. The opposing men now seem to be petrified in fear.
One man? Versus the five of them?
Their faces quickly turned confident after pondering this fact.
High above the sand, behind stone rails and shaded silk, the box of the King sits full of the realm's elite.
"Draven Zorak . . . The next heir to the throne . . . show us why you will bring us to further glory," The King says with pride in a room filled with many elite spectators.
"Why would the heir participate in such games?" A rich spectator asks.
"This gladiator match was arranged purely on Zorak's request. He's a hungry man indeed," The king boasts. "He does it for the love of the game. Honorable, yet hungry."
Zorak kneels to the five men.
"You men all deserve nothing but an eternal life with All Father. I wish you the best in the afterlife and utmost luck!"
Zorak then proceeds to put the most heinous smile on his face. He rises and walks closer to the five opposing men.
"Bring out your indomitable spirit, young men. Bring it forth."
"How do you think we should approach this?" one opposing man says, the one with two maces. His grip keeps readjusting.
"It's five against one. We should back up now to see his gameplan, and when we see a vulnerable opportunity we all collectively pounce on him," a man with a knife says. "He cannot block all of us at once, especially when our attack is a counter attack."
The men continue to back up step by step as Zorak approaches.
"Oh come on guys, let's put on a SHOW!"
Within a blink of an eye, Zorak dashes right in front of the man in the middle, leaving a trail of dust behind him. The sand he stood in a moment ago collapses into the empty print of his foot. Zorak goes for an explosive left hook with his metal arm and the man reacts just at the nick of time, dodging it by leaning back. Upon missing, a giant burst of air blasts in the trajectory of his hook punch, leaving a giant wind shockwave that ripples the sand into a long, curved scar.
"Was that due to his PUNCH??!!" the man with the sword says.
They all jump back except the man who just dodged.
"I DIDNT EVEN SEE HIM RUN, THIS SPEED!"
Zorak follows up with an uppercut, aimed at the same man as before, only to be blasted back into the gladiator walls by a giant purple ghost whip. It comes out of nowhere, a long violet ribbon of light that cracks the air like a splitting mast. Zorak's impact leaves a huge crack on the peach, sandstone walls, and a fine rain of grit falls over the front row.
The whip recoils and drinks itself back into the tall man's forearm. His sword lies forgotten in the sand behind him. Purple light braids up his elbow, humming, waiting.
Zorak smirks. "A power core ability? HOW EXCITING!!"
"Draven has no power core ability what so ever," The king explains to a spectator. "He relies on his training, skills and senses."
Zorak stretches his back, rolling the metal shoulder until the plates click.
"Let's deal with you first."
He takes off, leaving an immense shockwave behind him, cracking the wall and ground further. He appears at the face of the power core wielder in mere milliseconds.
The whip is already moving. It comes down in a screaming violet arc and Zorak crosses his metal arm over his head to eat it. The light wraps the alloy twice, tightens, and yanks — and for the first time all afternoon, Draven Zorak's feet leave the ground when he did not ask them to.
"QUICK SURROUND HIM!"
The four others come in from every angle to buy their champion the space he needs.
As the men quickly get into position, Zorak tears free of the whip and spin hook kicks one of them, mangling and decapitating his head clean off. The maces drop first. His body collapses after, still standing for a half second on legs that don't know yet.
One man goes in with the spear. Zorak leans in and weaves to the left, slimly avoiding the point whilst closing the distance. He then grabs the shaft and pulls the man in, elbowing him in the face with his metal arm. The impact releases a loud thump and crack sound as the man's jaw gets dislodged. It hangs like a dangling wire. Zorak follows up with a sweep, and as the man falls downwards, Zorak smashes his head in with one punch, splattering his skull on the sandy floor. The floor beneath cracks in a ring around his fist.
The remaining two knifemen jump back but Zorak has already closed the distance in an instant. They go into complete adrenaline mode. Zorak throws the most nasty hook punch ever. The hook lands into the side of one of the men's heads and it sinks in. The metal arm crushes right through the skull and the head inevitably gives up and ends up exploding into a gory mess. The hook punch is so strong that the shockwave blasts some of the audience back and completely obliterates and cracks the floor all the way up to the wall.
The last knifeman throws a couple of slash combos. Zorak blocks them with his metal arm with incredible precision, steel ringing on steel, sparks skipping off into the dust. He eventually catches his hand and rips it right off. Still being held by Zorak on the arm, the man is disarmed and throws another punch with his other hand. Zorak moves his head to the side and grabs the arm. He quickly turns around, flips the man over on his back and slams him into the floor. He then cracks his arm and kicks him so hard that he goes flying towards the wall. Zorak dashes in front of him mid-flight, grabs his neck and jumps upward with him, leaving a devastating crater beneath. He holds the man mid air and hurls him straight to the ground, splattering his body.
His speed is inhumane.
There is only one man left.
Upon landing, Zorak gets right in his face as usual.
Zorak throws some extremely powerful combos but the man dodges them. Head movement, small steps, nothing wasted. He ducks a hook and counter hooks Zorak's liver.
Zorak actually feels that.
"Whats up with this guy," Zorak thinks to himself.
The man looks up with a smile on his face and headbutts Zorak so that he goes flying backwards. He then crashes into the ground. The man follows up and chases Zorak down. The whip snaps out of his arm again and lashes around Zorak's ankle, and he uses it like a rope — running with him, sliding him through the rough ground, carving a trench across the ring. He then whips him forward and Zorak crashes into the wall again.
"That man, he is one of The Luxian Empire's finest gauntlet champions," The King explains. "We got him here a while ago. He's the one with the Ghost Whip power core ability"
Zorak gets up out of the rubble, puzzled, but thrilled nonetheless.
"I'll show you what strength is."
Zorak blasts forward, rapidly approaching the Luxian man. He dashes all around him, throwing various attacks from every side at once. The Luxian man cannot keep up. He braces. Then he plants his feet and spins, sweeping the purple ghost whip in one enormous circle around his own body, a purple ring of light at knee height, and Zorak runs straight into it mid-dash. It takes his legs out from under him at full speed.
He rolls, comes up, and throws a punch which the Luxian just barely avoids. He avoids it by pivoting to the side, leaving Zorak's arm trailing forward in front of his face. The Luxian then grabs Zorak's arm and uses the momentum to spin him, then slam him into the ground. Zorak round kicks the Luxian in the head from the ground, which he blocks, but he still gets knocked back.
Zorak gets up and the two engage in long, precise and intense hand to hand combat. Punches and kicks fly back and forth. Dodges and weaves. Blocks and SPEED. They move around the ring, in and out of the shadow of the wall, sand exploding at every pivot. The audience goes silent. No longer yelling Zorak's name, they are extremely focused. Somewhere in the stands a single flower falls onto the sand and nobody watches it land.
The Luxian throws two consecutive hook punches which Zorak ducks under, and drives his arms into the Luxian by his belly, driving him forward into a wall. The man hits the wall hard. Zorak looks up and lets go. He throws a punch with his metal arm. The Luxian moves his head to the left and the punch hits the wall, completely obliterating it, making a giant hole through the entire arena. Sunlight pours through the breach in a solid bar. It was like a giant bomb exploded at the wall. Many spectators got injured.
With Zorak's arm still buried in the stone, the whip flares one last time and coils around his throat, hauling him backwards out of the hole. Zorak's metal hand comes up and catches the light itself. It hisses against the alloy. It does not break.
The Luxian throws a swift back fist and Zorak catches that too. He quickly reacts by chopping the Luxian's face, leaving him a bit dazed. The purple light along his arm sputters, thins, gathers itself for another lash — and takes just a half beat too long doing it.
At this very moment Zorak had sensed his opening.
Zorak smiles and throws him across the arena, chasing him down right after he crashes into another wall. Zorak throws five consecutive punches one after another with his metal arm to the Luxian's face. Each punch blows a chunk of his face off, blood splurting everywhere. Zorak hook punches him, loosening his jaw. The Luxian attempts a swift combo and Zorak dodges all attacks. He then uppercut elbows the Luxian and rips his jaw off. He takes this jaw and slams it right into the Luxian's skull.
The purple light goes out.
"You fought well."
He then drops the body and walks to the center of the ring.
The audience goes wild once again, cheering his name.
Zorak then proceeds to take off what appears to be leg weights, body weights and arm weights from his body. He unclasps them casually, the way a man takes off a coat.
Upon dropping them to the ground, a DEVASTATING explosion ensues, turning the ground to rubble. The shock rolls up through the stone benches and into every spectator's chest.
The crowd is shocked.
He fought with those.
"The prodigal son of the Zorak family," The king proudly exclaims, "the one who will lead Segovia into greatness."