Four minutes in and I knew I had made a colossal mistake.
Three men surrounded me, feet pounding on the stained floor of the arena, their eyes wide and bloodshot with the adrenaline of war.
Two of the referees held their horns to their lips, preparing to blow the trumpet of victory.
I was the only one left, my other teammates had been slaughtered by these three men, whose hands were still dripping with their blood, their shining armor caked with red.
This was a game I was born to lose, the odds stacked against me from the beginning, and the only thing running through my mind is: oh god, why did I have to build that stupid time machine?