Caladus

 Across the battlefield Caladus, half-naked, his bronzed, muscular torso fully exposed, fought with fury. A tattered cloth wrap clung to his hips, held tight by a black leather belt, leaving the rest of his massive frame bare to the torchlight. His broad shoulders rolled with every motion, the cords of muscle along his neck and upper arms standing out as he swung his sword. His chest was thick and heavy, each slab rising and falling like a war drum, sweat and blood gleaming across the ridges. Beneath it, his abdomen flexed with every strike, deep-cut muscles tightening like ropes of iron, then stretching taut as he twisted into each swing. Veins snaked across his forearms, bulging as his grip tightened — a living fortress of flesh and bronze driving steel through the chaos.

One Roman lingered at the edge of the melee, cowering behind his shield. Caladus saw him and roared, hammering blow after blow onto the raised barrier. The shield jolted under each impact as Caladus’ shoulders bulged, chest swelled, and his abs knotted hard with the force of every stroke.

With a final savage strike, he split the rim and hurled the man to the ground. The Roman’s sword flew from his hand, skidding into the dirt.

Caladus loomed over him, bronzed torso glistening, chest heaving, ridged abdomen flexed tight as he raised his blade for the kill—

“Caladus!” a comrade cried over the din.

He turned toward the plea — just a heartbeat — and fate seized it.

The fallen Roman scrambled up and slammed his shield into Caladus’ chest. The blow caught him off guard, knocking the breath from him and driving his broad shoulders into an oak. Bark raked his back as his arms flared wide, chest arched, belly stretched taut — his magnificent torso splayed helplessly against the trunk.

The unarmed soldier froze, trembling, eyes dropping to his sword in the dirt — hope flickering —

—when another Roman rushed in, shoved him aside, and brutally thrust his sword straight into the gladiator’s wide open bare belly, the steel punching deep through the thick wall of muscle.

ssssssSSST!

“AAAAHHHH!!!” Caladus roared as his head snapped back, chest arching high against the bark. The blade tore straight through him, splitting his abdomen and bursting from his back in a spray of blood before slamming into the tree. His massive body convulsed, arms flaring wide as crimson streamed down the grooves of his abs.

The soldier violently ripped his blade out of Caladus’ gut, blood gushing. Caladus’ sword slipped from his weakening hand and clattered to the dirt — unarmed now, swaying, yet still on his feet.

Snarling, the same Roman crashed his forearm into Caladus’ chest, crushing him back to the bark, pulled back his sword, and drove the sword straight into Caladus' belly again.

ssssssSSST!

“UUUUHHHHH!!!” Caladus bellowed as the steel punched through his abs a second time, ripping the thick muscle open and blasting out of his back in another spray before crunching into the oak. His hands flew to the blade jutting from his abdomen, fingers slick with his own blood as he tried to wrench it free. The sword quivered in his grasp while the Roman’s weight forced it deeper, the point grinding into the wood.

The soldier tore the sword free and faded into the melee as if it were nothing, leaving the severely wounded gladiator staggering forward from the tree, blood pouring down his bronzed abdomen.

The first soldier, sill unarmed, crept closer, eyes wide. He bent, snatched up his fallen sword, and rose trembling — then hesitated, staring at the big muscular gladiator somehow still standing. For a heartbeat the blade shook in his grip.

With a strangled cry he forced himself forward, seized Caladus by the shoulder, spun him around, and drove the blade straight into his upper abs, just beneath his sternum.

ssssssSSST!

“UUUHHH…” The weak groan slipped from Caladus’ lips as the steel punched through, tearing deep into thick muscle and bursting from his back in a fresh spray of blood. His massive chest surged once, arms twitching wide.

The Roman ripped the sword back out. Caladus sagged forward for an instant — then crashed straight back to the ground. He hit hard, arms flung wide, streams of blood running down the flanks of his bronzed torso to pool beneath him. His chest gave one shallow heave, then stilled.

The soldier stared down in disbelief — then slunk into the shadows of the trees.

And so it was: even the strongest of them, men whose bodies were forged like living armor, could not resist the hand of fate. Caladus fought like a god of war; in the end, he fell to the Roman steel of a coward.