21 years. Each year I was being tested more. A puppy, turned into a wolf, a wolf into a bear, a bear to a tiger.  The tests got more grueling and kept pushing me, but I always won, never backing down. Today is my last test I am 21 after this I will have proved I’m strong enough, and will be allowed to enter society as a fit man, and will be given the life every man who passes trial gets.

I enter the arena, surrounded by quiet, dusty, dark air; my heart pumps the adrenaline through my body. My senses come alive in a way they only do here, here where the blood from those before me who weren't strong enough lays testament to the task before me. It emerges through the dust small at first, because of distance; I wait in anticipation armed with only the small club available to me for my trial. I wait, the seconds feel like hours as the dust burns my eyes, but I don’t dare blink. I finally make out what the beast. The man creeps closer I start to make out his club, and I realize what my final trial is. Kill or be killed. I ready myself for the fight as he dashes toward me swinging his club without hesitation. I leap to the right and roll quickly readying myself to counter his clumsy attack, I strike his leg with my club I feel the crack from his breaking bone come up through the club, and hear his scream of pain, but he wouldn't have made it to this trial if he wasn't strong. He turned swinging his club hitting my ribs I feel them crack from the blow I begin to have trouble breathing. He swings again I manage to step back avoiding the blow. I counter with a blow to his arm, them to his ribs. He kneels in pain. I hit his hand shattering it breaking its grasp on his club; he looks at me with fierce eyes. I pull back to give him a final blow to end his life. I bring my club down, striking him. Shattering his skull from the strength of the blow, as I see the life fade from him I fall to the ground, gasping for air closing my eyes knowing my final trial was done, and it was over. I open my eyes to see that the dust has cleared I’m surrounded by glass with screaming people cheering about the battle, and I can’t hear any of them. The trials that I went through weren't for every man. They were a sport, a game to these people, as children were chosen to be their athletes, their entertainment. As I lay there hardly able to breath next to a man I just killed I slowly realize. These were just games, and I was the champion.

first time posting so any criticism would be nice, I'd really like to improve my writing.