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A white-haired man, wearing a long black, knitted sweater, open in the front, an old, white T-shirt with holer in it, black shorts, and slippers entered the arena from the opposite side. He was so pale you could see veins under his skin. He had sunglasses on and was looking around curiously, watching the people from the audience on the large screens.

We watched him carefully through our TV. He started waving to people, and they responded with loud cheers. After all, the fact that he massacred a bunch of Russian soldiers was not public news.

- He looks scary - said Vikram with a can of beer in his hand.

- Scary?

- Yeah - he nodded. - Look how confident that guy is. It's like he owns everything. He is like a noble, looking at what peasants are doing in his lands..

- What? - I almost laughed at him, but then I realized he was serious.

- I'm telling you. He is dangerous.

- I know he is dangerous, he proved it already.

- He is bad news...

I sighed, and looked back at the screen, as a bunch of randoms. Two guys and one girl entered an arena. They looked like a bunch of cosplayers. She had a witch hat on her head, a red one. Robe of the same color, and was holding a wooden staff with some kind of blue crystal on top.

One of the guys was heavily armored. Wearing a full plate with a horned helmet and a spiked, square shield, plus a jagged sword. The other one was less attention-grabbing, he had just leather armor with a metal breastplate and a spear. A bit fancier one, with the longer spearhead, full of metal thorns sticking out.

- They are gonna die there... - Vikram continued.

I didn't reply to that, since I had a similar thought invading my mind. For some reason with Gavriil out there, the arena seemed like not a very safe place.

When the music finally stopped, and the team had their moment to wave at the fans, the battle started.

Semenov waved his hand a bit theatrically, the sand from the ground rose to form a cloud, that quickly fell down, but it left something behind. A simple standing wooden coffin.

The trio observed it carefully, as the tank went forward, while the spearman tried to flank. The mage started casting some spells, unfamiliar to me. I wouldn't be able to replicate them, but I knew that those were enhancing the tank.

The front of the coffin fell off, as Gavriil moved his hand again, revealing obviously a dead body. It was a tall, bald man, wearing leather armor, and holding a spear in front of him. His eyes were closed, but not for long. He opened them, as Semenov waved his hand for the third time. They were white, with faded pupils.

The dead man stepped outside of the coffin, presenting his spear, and started moving towards the tank. The armored man looked over his shoulder at the image for a moment, then charged with a battle cry.

This made Gavriil smile.

The undead jumped forward in the air, dragging his spear down, as he landed a heavy blow on the spiked shield, forcing the man holding it to go down on one knee. The impacts rose a cloud of sand. Both other teammates reacted. The spearmen charged while the mage send few shards of ice, but those managed to only hit the ground, as she had trouble with aiming, since her friend was out there.

Semenov's minion changed a hold in the spear, moved his arms rapidly, and struck from betow upwards, riping the shield from the hands of a tank. Just as his friend managed to put his spiked blade in the side of the dead. It was a mistake, since the undead grabbed it, spun his weapon in one hand, and attacked.

Fortunately, the man reacted, dropping his speak, and falling backward, as the enemy spearhead cut his face from the right eyebrow to the left cheek.

- AARGH! - he screamed.

The tank tackled Gavriil's minion, but couldn't put him to the ground. Instead, he got hit from above so powerful, that he ended on the ground, face down. The plates on his back were bent from the impact

- We give up! We give up! - shouted the mage.

Semenov smiled, showing his teeth.

- What the fuck? - escaped my mouth, as I leaned forward.

That fucked har longer fangs, like a vampire from pop culture would.

- You saw that? - asked Vikram. - His teeth...

- Yeah, I did.

The Russian waved his hand, and chains appeared in the coffin, to shoot forward, and grab his minion by hands, legs, and neck. They pulled him in instantly. The lid went flying and closed him inside.

He moved his hand again, and san again went flying, covering him and the coffin. Just as it settled down, both were gone. At the same time, the medical team went running on the arena, but we got taken back to the studio, where the hosts were trying their best to look like nothing drastic have happened.

- I'll help them - I said to Viktem, and shadow walked out of the room to bump into Marcella.

- You going? - she asked.

- Yep.

- She nodded. Then go. They won't need bot of us - she said and turned around.

I started walking towards the stairs, but the broadcasting staff members blocked my path. I sighed, and shadow walked past them, then climbed the stairs, to see as medical personnel struggled to stop the blood coming from the wound on spearman's face, and to remove the armor of the tank.

The mage was trying to be calm. She kept her distance, to not interrupt the help. There was concern written all over her face.

I used 'Eyes of the Void' to check on the condition of the knocked-down man. His spine was broken, and he clearly was out.

That fucker Gavriil was not playing games here. He came here to win. He came to the event to dominate, and instill both fear and respect in people all over the world.