Chapter 187
The crowd's deafening cheers rumble through the arena, vibrating in my chest like an ominous drumbeat. I try to focus on Wake and Khale as they step forward into the Pit, their faces steely and unreadable, but my stomach twists. The tension is unbearable, and Raif’s smug grin from his throne only fuels my unease.
The gates on the far side of the arena creak open, the sound echoing across the expanse like a warning bell. Two massive Enkian warriors emerge, each a horrifying testament to the ferocity of Ao. The first has the lower body of a giant squid, his long, sinuous tentacles coiling around him like serpents. The second’s lower half is a king crab, his massive legs clicking against the arena floor as his claws flex menacingly. They’re built for destruction, their sheer size and brute strength sending a shiver down my spine.
Wake and Khale begin circling the pair, their movements deliberate, calculating. Wake’s spear glints in the dim light, while Khale’s whip-like tail sways behind him, its razor-sharp fin ready to strike. The Ao warriors spread out, their predatory gazes locked on their prey. It’s a deadly dance, and I can’t shake the feeling that the odds are stacked against them.
The crowd’s noise feels alive, a wall of sound pressing down on me. I glance toward Raif, whose smirk has deepened, his posture exuding an unsettling confidence. My fingers dig into the arms of my seat as a dreadful thought takes root: this isn’t just a fight. It’s a display, a message.
My pulse quickens as I grip the edge of my seat, praying that Wake and Khale are prepared for whatever tricks Raif has planned.
The squid warrior strikes first, his tentacles snapping toward Wake with incredible speed. Wake deflects one with his spear, but another wraps around the shaft, yanking it from his hands and snapping it in two as if it were a twig.
“No!” I gasp, my heart lurching painfully in my chest.
Wake doesn’t falter. He ducks and rolls to avoid the tentacles, his movements fluid and precise. Khale immediately tosses his own spear to Wake, leaving himself unarmed.
“Khale!” I breathe, horrified. What’s he thinking?
Khale straightens, his tail lashing through the water with a deadly elegance. He’s not defenseless, but he’s taking an enormous risk. As the squid warrior advances on Wake, the crab warrior turns his attention to Khale. The crab’s massive pincers snap threateningly, each movement deliberate and calculating. Khale circles him, his tail whipping back and forth in measured strokes, testing, probing for an opening.
The crowd cheers wildly as the fight unfolds, their bloodlust palpable. Every time one of the Ao warriors lunges, they roar with excitement, and I can see Raif, Kota, and Kelis grinning like predators. They’re enjoying this. They want Wake and Khale to fall. This isn’t just entertainment to them—it’s sport, a cruel game with no regard for fairness or mercy.
Wake manages to dodge the squid’s relentless tentacles, his spear slicing through the water with deadly precision. He lands a glancing blow on one of the tentacles, but it only seems to anger his opponent. Meanwhile, Khale uses his whip tail to strike at the crab warrior, aiming for the joints in his legs. The crab retaliates with a swift snap of his claw, catching Khale across the ribs and drawing a thin stream of blood.
I flinch as Khale stumbles, clutching his side. “This isn’t a fair fight,” I hiss, my voice trembling with anger.
Cora’s jaw tightens. “It’s not supposed to be.” Her voice is low but steady, filled with grim understanding.
“Quiet,” Kota snaps.
Wake is relentless, his movements a blur as he fights off the squid warrior. But the Ao fighter is equally ferocious, using his tentacles to keep Wake on the defensive. My heart pounds as I watch Wake narrowly avoid a crushing blow, his focus unshakable despite the chaos around him. Yet it feels like it’s not enough.
The crab warrior looms over Khale, trapping him in the cage of his long, spindly legs. Beneath him, Khale thrashes, trying desperately to use his tail whip to gain him leverage, but the sheer number of legs surrounding him doesn’t give him much room to move.
I gasp as Khale’s assailant stabs a pointed leg clear through his shoulder. Khale’s face twists in anguish. He takes the leg goring him and snaps it off at the nearest hinge with a sickening crunch. The fighter on top of him shouts, raising another lethal leg over Khale to come plunging into his heart in retaliation.
But before he does, the fighter turns up to the stands…seeking the King’s permission.
The crowd’s roar intensifies as Raif rises from his throne, his expression dark and menacing. He raises a hand and makes a slow, deliberate motion across his throat. My blood runs cold as I realize what he’s signaling.
“You’re going to kill him,” Cora snarls. “He is your blood!”
“No,” I say firmly, though my voice wavers. “Wake won’t let that happen.”
The squid warrior’s tentacles lash out, pinning Wake against the arena wall. At the same time, the crab warrior closes in on Khale, his claw raised high, ready to deliver a killing blow. My chest tightens, my nails digging into my palms as panic surges through me.
But Wake moves. With a burst of strength, he kicks the squid warrior away, using the momentum to free himself. In one fluid motion, he hurls his spear across the arena. It slices through the water like a torpedo, slamming into the crab warrior’s throat with devastating accuracy.
The arena falls into stunned silence for a heartbeat before erupting into chaos. Cheers and boos clash in a deafening cacophony as the crab warrior collapses, his lifeless body sinking to the arena floor.
Raif’s face twists with fury, his lips pressed into a thin line as he glares down at the scene. Wake doesn’t spare him a glance. He charges toward the remaining opponent, his focus unyielding. The squid warrior hesitates, his confidence shaken, but it’s too late. Wake closes the distance and strikes with brutal efficiency, dispatching him with a swift blow to the chest.
The crowd’s reaction is mixed, some cheering for the display of skill while others boo loudly. Raif stands in silence, his hands clenched into fists as he watches Wake help Khale to his feet. The bond hums faintly, a reassuring thread of connection between us even in the chaos. My heartbeat slows just slightly, but the unease in the pit of my stomach lingers.
Kota leans back in his chair, his expression smug. “Your prince didn’t even dispatch a single fighter,” he drawls, his words dripping with mockery.
Kelis scowls. “Godsdamned fluke,” he mutters. “There’s no honor in this victory.”
Cora shoots them both a sharp look but remains silent. I force myself to stay composed, though my heart races with relief. Wake and Khale have survived—for now. But the air around us buzzes with an unspoken tension. This victory isn’t final; it’s a reprieve.
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