Epic Fantasy Deathmatch Part 1

I wrote some short stories a while ago, and I've just now finally decided to stop being a lazy fucker and post one. Here it is.

They were here. They were all here. From across time and space, Earth's greatest warriors and strategists were here. "Excellent," said Brron, ruler of this domain known as Dark World. "This tournament will be one of the best we've had in years!" Zure, knight and commander of Dark World's military looked on. "I'm sure it will be better than the last one, sire. Those last fighters from Zaracada were total and utter weaklings." Smiling like a shark, Brron drew a deep breath. "LET THE FIRST MATCH BEGIN!" he yelled, excitement in his voice. The spectators in the stands of the gothic-esque colliseum, packed in shoulder to shoulder, roared like wild beasts. They were hungry for the blood that was soon to be shed. Two large doors on opposite sides of the colliseum slowly opened. The two men that were about to fight to the death slowly walked from them toward the center of the ring. To the left was white-haired commander of the entire Confederate Army, Robert E. Lee. To the right was one of the most ruthless dictators of the ancient world; Julius Caesar. The Roman Caesar carried the traditional shield and gladius; The Confederate Lee nothing but a ceremonial cavalry saber given to those of high rank. There would be no talking in this fight to the death; both men were resigned to the fact that this was a deathmatch, and would not let emotion get in the way. They drew their weapons at almost the same moment and began to slowly circle eachother. Caesar lashed forward with all his might, planning to take his Confederate opponent to the ground by smashing into him with his shield. This did not happen, though ; Lee side-stepped the vicious attack with such grace that he seemed as though he were a bullfighter and plunged the saber into the Roman's back. His spine almost certainly severed, the Roman general crumpled to the ground, lifeless. The spectators cheered Lee on, chanting to cut off the head of his slain opponent. He did not heed their chant, pausing on to wipe the blood on his blade off on his trouser leg. Putting his blade back in the sheath, he walked back into the door whence he came, followed by the boos of the bloodlusting crowd. "Quite entertaining for such a short match," said Brron, high above the arena in his own personal box. With the smile of a patient in a mental institution he added, "Should have cut off his head though," and laughed hysterically. "He fought quite honorably, for a lesser being," said Zure with seriousness, 'but he would be no match for one of our soldiers." "Should have at least cut off his heart out," said Brron, who hasn't even been paying attention to Zure. "Oh well... LET THE NEXT FIGHT BEGIN!" he yelled and watched intently as the next pair of fighters came out.

That's all for now! Thanks for reading this, and leave me some feedback. I always like to hear some constructive criticism. ;)