Tamrissa's questions are answered curtly by a nearby soldier.

"You are both to be sold."

The OGHRUN speaks no more as Tamrissa is dragged along. However, after some more painful steps, they realise her injuries are serious enough to impede her walking. Scowling, the solider reaches to his side and gives her a bottle of healing liquid.

"Drink this, and do not hold us up any longer."

Gulver soon finds himself placed in the cell with Yue, Kanshisha and Zera, while Tamrissa find herself with Shenba, Kawanua and Thisias.

Meanwhile, Soul Reaver's thoughtful repose is suddenly interrupted when his door is thrown open by the OGHRUN guards. Before he can say anything, they grab his arms and drag him out.

Soul Reaver finds himself forced down onto his knees before the ancient OGHRUN slave master. He grins down at the black-clad warrior.

"Indeed, you look like the NERKON. This will be impressive - I simply hope you handle yourself with enough skill to make it interesting too."

Soul Reaver looks up. His eyes betray a deep anger at the creature before him - it still pains him to think that this is the reward the OGHRUN would give him for their freedom.

The ancient, scarred slave master bows down to look the little creature straight in the eyes.

"You, false NERKON, are to fight in the final battle for the title of Slave King. You will symbolically re-enact our final gruelling battle for our release from slavery!"

His cold eyes are filled with a glitter of happiness.

"How grand it will be - to have the NERKON himself fighting for freedom!"

Soul Reaver hisses with angry cynicism.

"A freedom that is also purely symbolic. Do not think that I am ignorant of your... 'traditions'."

The OGHRUN stands back up to its full height, rumbling with laughter. As the laughter dies down, it continues.

"Slaves are too dangerous to set free. But you will enjoy the admiration of the public, and for a month you will truly be treated as a king - to represent the feasting that followed our victory.

And next year, you will be able to fight to retain your title. It is the greatest glory a slave could ever wish for!"

For a moment, the OGHRUN waits, apparently hoping for a reply. When none is forthcoming, he waves towards the guards, who take Soul Reaver away.

He is taken to a runic forge. There, an OGHRUN smith attaches round steel bands to his limbs - one each on his forearms, upper arms, lower legs, and upper thighs. The strange silver lustre of the metal indicates that there may be more to these devices than meets the eye.

Soul Reaver has his armour taken from him... but to his surprise, it is merely cleaned and polished before it is put on him once again.

He is then led down a long, dark corridor towards a porticullis...

Within the cells, the companions had long heard the sounds of a massive crowd gathering in the arena above. Now, suddenly, everything goes still. Through the windows high on their cell walls, the companions can see what is happening.

An OGHRUN can be heard announcing the battle.

"ORGATH DOORA KESHU... TUVUK!!!"

A bellow of enthusiasm is heard from the crowd as a huge OGHRUN is led into the arena. It wears only a loincloth, and has steel bands attached to its legs and arms. It is manacled by its wrists to two very long chains near the centre of the arena. The other ends of the chains are bolted into the ground.

The announcer continues in the tongue of the OGHRUN.

"DERG TOH, KOWAR GENTRO TAAG..."

And then follows a word that, even in the foreign language of the OGHRUN is familiar to the companions.

"...NERKON!!!!"

With the speaking of this final word, the arena is rocked with both cheering and booing. It only increases in intensity as Soul Reaver is led out. He is dressed in his armour so that the similarity with the NERKON would be more striking, and the crowds stamp their feet as he is led towards the centre of the the battlefield.

There, the OGHRUN soldiers take off his armour and manacle him to another pair of chains.

Soul Reaver finds himself facing his massive foe, wearing only a loincloth, standing barefooted upon the hot arena sands. A thin sheen of sweat covers his heavily-muscled body.

And in moments, the battle begins...