The massive minotaur fell to the ground in a pool of blood, and seized to move. The crowd cheered as the winded warrior Cysma stood victorious over the beast. He weakly raised his arms up in victory, holding a bloody sword in one hand, a dented shield in the other. These were the only two things he had on him besides a loincloth for modesty. Fighting without armor was dangerous, but it did have some advantages, like increased mobility. Not that the entrants in this arena had any choice, anyway. He made his way back to the entrance gate to the arena and headed down the hallway that led beneath it. But before returning to his quarters to lick his wounds, he would go stand near a wall that separated the warriors' hallway from the spectators'. One of the stone bricks in the wall was missing. It was too dark on the entrants' side for a commoner to see in, but Cysma could remain hidden and see and hear out just fine. He would often do this, as the spot the gap in the wall was overlooking happened to be a common place where spectators would talk about the match after it was over. He waited to see if there were anyone talking about the battle he had just fought.