Can you still fight?
Ava’s POV
“Ava! Ava, I won!” Gwen’s voice woke me up.
“She’s still weak from the drug,” a man said.
“Who are you?” Gwen asked, sounding suspicious.
“I’m the King’s man. My name is Ezra. What did your friend eat?” he asked calmly.
“I think it was the drink and snacks they gave us before the competition started,” Gwen explained.
“I see.”
“Ava, how are you feeling?” Gwen asked again, her voice full of concern. I wanted to share her excitement.
I tried sitting up quickly, but the effects of whatever Jocelyn gave me were still making me feel weak and unsteady.
“I’m fine, Gwen. I’m proud of you, pumpkin. I knew you could do it,” I said, reaching over to ruffle her curly hair. My vision was still blurry, and Maya, my wolf, wasn’t as restless as before, which meant the drug was wearing off. I looked at my hands, blurry but healed. Only the bloodstains were left.
“Ava,” Raphael’s voice rang in my head, pulling me out of my thoughts. I turned, searching for him. There he was, sitting in the pavilion with his eyes locked on me. I focused on him.
“You don’t look good. What happened?” he snarled in my mind, sounding worried.
“I’m alright, Raphael.”
“Can you still fight?”
“Yes! I can,” I replied firmly. I wasn’t about to let something this small stop me.
There was a long pause. Raphael’s eyes bored into mine, but eventually, he gave in.
“Alright,” he finally said.
“I’ll be fine. I promise,” I assured him. He didn’t reply, and I turned my attention to the arena, where the high sorcerer was announcing the next battle.
“And the contenders are Jocelyn Jorah, the warlock, and Clarkson Berulf, the Lycan,” the voice echoed across the arena, and the crowd erupted into cheers.
The arena shifted once again as the ground began to change, forming a dark, dense forest. Tall trees rose from the ground, and thick fog rolled in, making the air feel damp and heavy. The scent of pine filled the air, and eerie growls echoed from the shadows.
The new battlefield was perfect for both the raw strength of Clarkson, the Lycan wolf, and the cunning, shadowy magic of Jocelyn, the warlock. The arena was now a forest designed for stealth and power, with towering trees and shimmering streams of silver water running through it. The full moon shone through the gaps in the trees, casting an eerie majestic light on the ground below.
Clarkson stood tall, his muscular body ready for the fight. His eyes glowed faintly under the moonlight, and he looked every bit the fierce, powerful Lycan wolf. Jocelyn, on the other hand, appeared calm and collected as though nothing could move her, her sharp eyes scanned the arena. She knows she thrived in battles like this, where cunning and control could overpower brute strength.
The high sorcerer’s voice boomed again, signaling the start of the fight. Both competitors stood still, watching and waiting for the other to make the first move. Jocelyn wore a cruel smile, confident in her victory. Clarkson stood his ground, waiting for her to strike first, knowing how sly she could be.
As the battle began, Jocelyn moved forward slowly, her cloak billowing behind her. She could feel Clarkson’s power, but she didn’t seem worried. She didn’t even use her magic, mocking him with her slow, deliberate movements. Clarkson snarled, his claws extending as he darted through the forest, his senses heightened by the moonlight.
He lunged at her, aiming for her throat, but Jocelyn sidestepped effortlessly, a cold smile on her lips.
“Is this all you’ve got, Lycan?” she taunted, her voice dripping with mockery. “I expected more from a Lycan.”
Clarkson growled in frustration but didn’t back down. He launched another attack, his claws slashing through the air, but Jocelyn dodged again, not even breaking a sweat.
“Brute force won’t win you this battle,” she sneered, still not using her magic. She was playing with him, manipulating and toying with him like a predator playing with its prey.
Clarkson’s eyes burned with fury as he shifted fully into his Lycan form. Standing on two legs, he howled at the moon, his fangs bared, his claws ready to tear her apart. He charged at her again, determined to overpower her with brutal strength.
But Jocelyn laughed, flicking her wrist to summon dark energy that barely grazed Clarkson’s fur. She wasn’t even trying.
“This is pathetic,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.
Clarkson swung his massive claw at her, but Jocelyn caught his arm mid-strike, her grip unnaturally strong. Their eyes locked, Clarkson’s filled with rage, Jocelyn’s with disdain.
“You really thought strength could beat me?” she whispered, tightening her grip, bone crushing sounds could be heard and it was brutal. Clarkson fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
He scrambled to his feet, trying to recover, but Jocelyn was faster. She moved in a blur, striking him repeatedly with bone-crushing blows. Clarkson, despite his size and power, couldn’t land a hit. Jocelyn was too fast, too skilled.
Growing bored of the fight, Jocelyn grabbed Clarkson by the throat and slammed him into a tree, the impact splintering the bark. She leaned in close, her breath hot on his face.
“You should’ve known better than to challenge a warlock,” she whispered, her voice venomous.
Clarkson struggled, but it was useless. With one final surge of strength, Jocelyn hurled him across the battlefield. He hit the ground hard, too weak to stand. The fight was over.
Jocelyn stood tall, dusting off her hands as if the battle had been nothing to her. She hadn’t even used her full power.
The high sorcerer’s voice echoed through the arena, declaring Jocelyn the victor.
“The winner is Jocelyn Jorah.” He bellowed.
The crowd erupted into cheers, but Jocelyn didn’t care. She walked away without even looking at Clarkson, her cloak billowing behind her as she left him defeated on the ground.
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