The hunger for a challenge was real in the seasoned Gladiator. He was more than ready and eager for another arena showdown to happen. The beautiful bloodshed and carnage he delivered and drank in during the fights to the death were such a thrill and adrenaline rush. Balius knew the beast in him would never settle down enough for him to willingly leave the glory of the arena breathing and alive.

So when it came to training the younger gladiators, he assessed every single one for their potential automatically. Balius wanted to ensure whoever delivered his death blow, they were worthy of fulfilling the act properly. He would not tolerate some lucky low life to end his glory with some cheap shot of accident. If he was to die, he was to die at the hands of a man that could promise him a noble gladiators death at the sword. It wouldn't be dictated by either a merciful or a cruel crowd's vote. It'd be from his opponent's only choice of survival was to kill Balius. Thus far not a single one of these whelps were worth their weight in salt for being allowed in the arena, let alone to actually kill Balius.

Least that was what Balius thought as he'd trained with his fellow fighters that morning. The confidence of his reputation and skill could have easily been blinding him to the reality of it all.

A very pleased but hungry grin overtook his features as Demetrius stepped up and called him out. Such a lovely man to make Balius see the error of his ways. The tanned brute jerked his wrist to spin the wooden practice sword in hand as he sidestepped his new opponent, “The truth that comes from your lips cannot be denied. Right you are, it probably will be!” He cooed his pride, righteous or not beamed at what the other seasoned Gladiator had said, “Make this even or see how fast my toy turns into tinder. Your call Demetrius!” He sounds the wooden prop again in his hand, tauntingly before making a mockingbird strike at Demetrius with it. It was the only thing on his person for any real protection, no shield or any other adornment that could offer the illusion of protection from a true blow of sword or spear.

If needed Balius could yell out for actual blades to be passed to him. He waited though, more than willing to match splinters against steel. This could be humorous and fun after all with a proper sparring partner now.

“They should see what real men in are fight are like!” Balius roared with a chuckle, smirking at seeing the glint in Demetrius’s eye. That made the beast in Balius growl even louder. Yes this wasn’t going to be real serious but it didn’t mean the tiger and wolf couldn’t gnaw at each other for awhile first. More often than not in the last few years since the Marikas had owned him, Balius had to contain his carnal beast to only when he was within the the Arcus. The pent up creature inside him was always hard to retain whenever he was here, even just for practice, for that very reason. He couldn’t count how often a new recruit fell to his pent up rage.. Which probably wasn’t a very good thing but at least they were only slaves. No one important.

Balius for a moment had thought Demetrius was going to pause and beckon him to make the first move but he was completely wrong after he’d made a mock swing at the man first. Instead the fairer haired man charged right into it and gave no time for Balius to do much but attempt to jump out of the way. He was close but not quite fast enough. He grunted a bit as he felt a sharp slap on the back of his calf as he hadn’t moved quick enough and the wooden sword landed a hit. Demetrius was nearly as seasoned as Balius himself, he shouldn’t underestimate the man, even with Demetrius being smaller and foreigner. That could be Balius’s down fall. If he merely judged the man on stature and origins, instead of his known reputation.

Using the momentum of his failed block to spin around, Balius brought his wooden weapon swinging. Putting his sheer strength behind the blow he aimed to get at Demetrius’s back before he could fully turn around. The bugger was fast and there was a loud thwack that sounded out against the walls of the training area as Balius’s practice sword smacked heavily against Demetrius’s blocking sword. The darker skinned man growled his approval, keeping his eyes locked on the foreigner’s face while his keenly trained peripheral vision tracked any oncoming hits.

Not letting up in the least, Balius twisted his wrist around, keeping his side with his weapon in hand more towards Demetrius as he came at the man. Slashing underhand uppercut blows at the farer man, seeing if there was an opening anywhere he could take advantage of, as he pressed forward with his short onslaught. Only after that did Balius step back and ease in his attack to see if Demetrius was going to take a quick sec regroup rest. If not then Balius would switch to defense and aim to block whatever his friendly opponent came at him with.