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By the time Benet was escorted out to the site of the final phase of his competition he was fighting impatience and trying to remain loose.

The crowd cheered constantly as he and his opponent, the famed Klorizenko were introduced.

The referee went over the rules, which were few.

Basically it was a foul to touch any area of the body covered by the loincloth and there was to be no eye gouging.

Anything else was fair and the loser would be the first man to put any part of his body outside the white circle.

Of course if one of them died inside the white circle, they also lost.

Klorizenko paraded around the circle, playing to the crowd, hands above his head in a premature victory sign.

Benet stood in his spot at the center, poised to strike, knees slightly bent, gathering his energy.

His opponent was a huge man, as big as Dmitri and solid muscle.

He was well coordinated too, with good balance or he wouldn’t have made it through the metal maze and the obstacle course in near record time.

He’d been the unquestioned favorite to win the gold medal until Benet was plucked from his home and dropped into the mix.

The referees finally shepherded him into the required spot at the center of the circle. He and Benet bumped fists and drew apart. The warning tones sounded, followed by the starter’s signal. The match would last until one man won or died.

Klorizenko’s great weakness was his ego.

He was used to winning these kinds of matches easily.

Benet allowed him to make a bull rush, dodging out of the way nimbly and immediately turning to keep an eye on his opponent.

As he’d hoped, and observed in any number of holos of Klorizenko’s fights, the man walked the edge of the circle, taunting Benet and inciting the crowd to cheer for himself.

Benet went from zero to full speed, ramming his shoulder into Klorizenko’s side, which was like hitting a wall, but he persisted, shoving with all his newfound Badari strength.

Frantically the Outlier tried to twist away or to grab at Benet or trip him, but the gladiator was having none of it, just kept inexorably moving the mountain of a man toward the edge of the circle.

Klorizenko was raining curses and heavy blows on his back but Benet wasn’t to be denied.

Mere human strength, even in a behemoth like Klorizenko couldn’t prevail against his now-amplified power.

He feinted as if he was weakening, which caused Klorizenko to shift his balance to attempt to get Benet in a headlock.

Benet gave his final shove and Klorizenko stumbled and toppled out of the ring into the grass.

The venue was utterly silent.

Benet raised his fists and sought out the Nichevsky box, where Kyden, Talinn and Dmitri were grinning broadly and everyone else was in shock.

The crowd roared finally. Klorizenko shot to his feet, protesting and trying to get back into the circle but a phalanx of referees kept him at bay.

There was a pause while the officials debated if the win was within the rules and decided unanimously Benet had complied with Games regulations.

He was declared the winner and the gold medalist carried off the field on the shoulders of the jubilant Nichevsky team, coaches and trainers.

He was allowed to dress in his sweats, the Nichevsky emblem huge in red and gold on his jacket and then it was time to receive the actual medal.

Benet’s name was announced last and Klorizenko spat at his feet, but the crowd noise was overwhelmingly positive.

An official in rich ceremonial robes hung the gold medal around Benet’s neck and shook his hand, after which the March of the Empress was played and her personal flag was hoisted while the entire stadium stood at attention.

Benet supposed Ekatereen was there somewhere but didn’t bother looking for her.

This ceremony meant as little to him as the many such presentations he’d received in the arena at home.

Staying alive was the prize, not any fancy gold trinket or wreath of allegedly sacred leaves.

When the song ended Benet stepped off the dais and was immediately surrounded by his friends, Marushka, the Grand Duke and the others who’d been in the Nichevsky box.

He embraced the three Badari and took a lot of good-natured ribbing about his new piece of jewelry.

He kissed Marushka, which he figured he could get away with in public tonight.

“This is for you,” he whispered, lifting the medal away from his chest.

The Grand Duke cleared his throat. “You cheapened my victory by not actually fighting the man,” he said. “The occasion demanded a full and proper battle, to show the gold medal was fairly won.”

“We have a saying at home in the arenas,” Benet told him. “Whatever works and gets a man out alive is fine. Doesn’t have to be pretty. I won you the damn medal, I beat Prince Vasili’s man and now I’m going home with my friends.”

“You mean your owner and his friends,” the duke said, eyes narrowed.

Benet restrained himself from rolling his eyes and was rescued by Kyden, who stepped to his side. “I can forgive the man’s exuberance tonight, your grace,” he said to the duke. “It isn’t often a slave can claim such a prize, now is it? He’ll be in his proper place tomorrow.”

Apparently mollified, the duke nodded and stepped away, taking Marushka with him.

Benet watched her go, his heart aching.

Kyden clapped him on the shoulder. “I know, old friend, and I sympathize. She’s quite a girl.

I’d say we’d find a way, like Elara and I did but Marushka spent much of today explaining to me how impossible it is for her to escape Outlier.

Tonight’s not the night to figure it out.

” He lowered his voice. “If anything can be done, we’ll do it, I give you my word. ”