The man named Champion stood just inside the entrance to the arena. Not a thought ran through his head except for three commands. Fight. Kill. Make it a show.

High above the arena and beyond the reach of the crowd was a platform constructed specifically for this event. It cut out into the air like the bow of a ship, taking up the space of hundreds of seats. Not that it mattered. Ticket prices for this night were worth more than a thousand times the normal price. And, of course, nothing but the best view for the Emperor of the Universe.

"Champion, you named him," Zarkon said to the Witch, his only companion on the platform.

"Yes. Champion," she said. "The prisoners began to call him that after he defeated the Gladiator. We took their name and made it ours."

"I trust that he is ours as well, Haggar."

"Of course, Emperor. My Druids and I have spent months preparing him, training him to be our greatest weapon. His body may be strong, but his mind is weak. He will not fail tonight."

"Excellent," said Zarkon. "I will enjoy watching this fight."

At the tick of the clock, the announcer began his welcome. "Tonight, we are honored with the presence of Emperor Zarkon himself, here to watch the debut of his Champion." As his name was said, Champion stepped out into the arena. The crowd roared with bloodlust.

"You kept him in prisoner garb."

"We have several prisoners that were with him the night he conquered the Gladiator, including the other Earthling," Haggar explained. "They must be shown that even their source of hope will become ours."

Champion struck a different figure than most of the premier warriors of the Empire. He was short by comparison to many, but those in the first rows could see that while small, he was muscular and fit. A shock of white hair fell across his forehead. The scar he received fighting the Gladiator was clean on his face, now healed. Unlike many of the former warriors of the arena, he held no weapons. It made him all the more dangerous to the audience.

The first round of the night began: a trio of basic droids armed with simple laser guns. They immediately started shooting at Champion, who sprinted and dodged his way to the nearest of arena's four pillars. He flicked his right hand out and the audience who could see gasped as it glowed purple. The ones who could not strained to catch even a glimpse of what was happening. Zarkon saw it all; every angle of the arena was projected on screens slightly above him.

Champion held his hand close to his body, making himself as small as possible as the droids circled the pillar, two on the right and one on the left. For a few heartbeats, he crouched there, listening. Just before the droid on the left caught sight of the man, Champion leapt out and slammed the side of his hand into the droid's head unit. The strike sliced through the droid and embedded the tip of Champion's hand into the wall. He yanked it out as the droid fell to the ground. The audience hollered with excitement as the man raced around the side of the pillar towards the back of the other droids. He came in low, striking the first droid in the side of its torso. It crashed into the wall inches from the second droid, which turned and began shooting at Champion. The man dove and dodged the lasers in a forward roll, coming up behind the droid. Before it could turn and shoot at him again, Champion punched the droid in the back. He stood there with the dead droid still hanging from his fist, breathing hard.

The crowd roared with its approval. The entire attack had taken less than ten seconds. With the moment of dramatic ending over, Champion pulled his fist out of the droid in one swift movement, standing attention for the next attacker. It was another trio of droids, this time armed with swords, the weapon of the Galra nobility. Every member of the audience recognized the warriors from the Empire's elite guard, known for protecting the upper echelon of Zarkon's command, but rarely seen in person.

It didn't matter to Champion what they were. Fight. Kill. Make it a show. The second battle took longer than the first, but within a minute, all three of the droids were broken on the ground.

"Impressive," said Zarkon. The Witch said nothing.

The night continued in much the same way. The greatest warriors from across Zarkon's Empire came for their chance to fight against the Emperor's Champion. They fought him one at a time, each stronger and more imposing than the last. More than once it seemed like one would finally beat Champion, but every time the man would come and strike again. His strength and speed outmatched theirs. Each opponent met the same fate. Champion killed them all.

After more than an hour of fighting, the announcer spoke again. "For the final challenger of the night, we bring to you prisoners of the Galra Empire! Let the Champion fight his own!" The crowd roared its approval once more as the announcer listed off the species of prisoners that would be forced to fight tonight.

The several dozen prisoners were released onto the battlefield. Some were armed with guns, some with swords. Some fought with nothing but their bare hands. A good majority of them charged at Champion, who fought them with machine precision. Only a few stayed back at the entrance to the arena, hoping to delay their inevitable death for a breath longer.

"We've offered them freedom if they defeat Champion," Haggar said. "They will fight for their lives instead of for glory. It will please those watching to see such desperation in the fight."

"And it will send a message to the prisoners across the Empire that rebellion is pointless," said Zarkon. "Make sure that news of this night is spread."

"Yes, my lord."

Despite being vastly outnumbered, Champion fought undaunted. Different colors of blood bled from the bodies of the fallen, left behind in the wake of his slaughter. The few who survived the initial bloodbath, along with those who did not join, ran and tried to hide behind the pillars or under the dead bodies scattered in the arena. Those with guns took potshots at Champion, but no one managed to land a hit.

The battle lasted longer than any of the others. With multiple enemies on the battlefield, all more cautious than bloodthirsty, Champion was forced to play a game of cat and mouse. He stalked down each one of the prisoners slowly, often sneaking up behind the ones hiding and killing them before they noticed he was there. After half an hour, Champion was the only one alive on the battlefield. Standing near his entrance to the battlefield, he was drenched in a dark rainbow of blood, none of it his own. His right arm glowed purple through it.

The crowd went wild.

It was then that Champion noticed the small figure standing right inside the prisoners' entrance to the battlefield. He watched as a security droid shoved the figure out into the light. This prisoner was unarmed.

"And last, the Earthling captured alongside Champion when he first arrived. It is time to finish what he started!"

At first, neither of the fighters moved. Then Champion took the first step towards his opponent. He didn't run. He just strode across the battlefield. Fight. Kill. Make it a show.

The figure near the entrance just stood there, frozen in fear. But as Champion got closer, he jumped as if stabbed with electricity and yelled something lost in the roar of the crowd. Finally, he moved, practically throwing himself towards one of the bodies on the ground. He scrambled for its fallen gun.

As soon as the figure moved, Champion broke into a sprint. He was close enough to the prisoner now that he could see the shaggy mass of brown hair and dirty face, both unwashed in a long time. To his surprise, the prisoner looked a lot like Champion himself: the same number of eyes, arms, legs. Five fingers on his hand. Rounded ears.

The prisoner shouted something again, something Champion could almost hear, but not quite. He was on the ground backed up against one of the pillars, clutching the gun he had grabbed. As Champion approached, he raised the gun in shaking hands and took a shot. By some spot of luck, the laser hit Champion in his shoulder, right where his prosthesis met his skin.

The resulting shock caused Champion to fall to his knees as the electricity arced through his right arm, making it go momentarily numb. The audience roared with excitement. In that opportunity, the prisoner ran away from Champion towards the opposite end of the arena. He ran with a limp, favoring his left knee.

With feeling returning to his arm, Champion stood up, gritting his teeth through the pain that still lingered in his system. He ran after the prisoner. It would be a matter of seconds before he caught up.

The prisoner looked over his shoulder as he heard the crowd yell again. Champion was not more than a few meters behind him. He stumbled over a body on the ground and fell, rolling sideways. Before he could get up, Champion leapt atop him, pinning the prisoner to the ground. His right arm was high in the air, glowing and about to be brought down on the prisoner's head. They were face to face. The world paused.

"Shiro," the prisoner gasped. "Please, no."

A stream of recollections washed over Shiro's thoughts. Champion. Zarkon. Voltron. His face contorted and he looked at the boy lying on the ground beneath him. He lowered his upraised hand. "Matt?" he said, not sure where the name came from. "What's going on?"

Before Matt could answer, something hit Shiro in the shoulder and sent him sprawling. He sat up, breathing hard and struggling to keep his focus. Hands shouldn't glow purple. Bodies were strewn around him. Their blood matched the colors that were on his hands. No! I didn't do this! I have to get out of here!

Security drones were already streaming the battlefield. Shiro stood up and ran towards the closest exit, automatically dodging and fighting the drones as they tried to capture him. He made it through the doorway and placed his hand on the sensor, closing the door. He punched the frame so that the door wouldn't open, then glanced out at the battlefield. Through the stream of drones trying to break the door, he could see Matt, held captive on his knees by one of the drones. Matt! I forgot Matt! The two made eye contact for a brief moment and Shiro could read his names on Matt's lips as the boy shouted for him.

"No!" Shiro yelled. "Matt!" He pounded his fist on the door, but unlike the frame, the glass didn't break. As he did, another thought floated into his brain. Voltron. It's on Earth. They're going after it.

I have to warn them.

Shiro blinked the tears out of his eyes, still unsure exactly who Matt was to him yet knowing he didn't want to leave the boy behind. But Shiro did know one thing. If Zarkon got to Earth first….there wouldn't be an Earth. This was his one chance to escape.

"I'm sorry, Matt," he said, before turning and running out into the dark bowels of the arena. "I'll come back for you. I promise."