Crave Arena: Supernatural Battle (Demon Peaks #1)

Chapter 1

“Home sweet home,” I murmured to the tiny and empty rock chamber.

I guessed that long ago the Pinnacle was just a normal mountain of rock before someone carved out hundreds of windowless rooms and a single narrow stairway.

When I’d first visited a week ago, a bed, drawers, and chair had occupied my room. That furniture was long gone. Because there was a simple hierarchy here, simple in true demon fashion. The strongest players dwelled at the top of the Pinnacle with all the comforts, and the weakest…

Well.

When I’d selected a bottom room, I hadn’t considered that the larger and more luxurious rooms at the top would have better airflow.

The scent of sulfur filled my senses, and I took the opportunity to breathe deeply, knowing that when the acrid smell dissipated, a worse aroma would take its place again.

Sure enough… I wrinkled my nose at the stench of sweat, vomit, and shit—of sex, excitement, and fear. And no wonder. Today was the first round of the game.

Tiers.

Very similar to the word “tears,” of course. Which was what most of the demons here would shed before they died. Hopefully not me.

Once a year, Tiers was played, and any demon could enter, but only one contestant would walk away at the end of the month. Or crawl with only one arm and leg. I’d seen that too.

Whoever invented this game was a genius, because gathering so many demons in one space should entail disaster.

Demons agreed on nothing except their fear of the demon king and their thirst for pain.

Tiers combined these two areas. So somehow thousands of demons found it in their iron-encased hearts to sit side by side and watch the game.

Jeers echoed down from the stronger contestants in the top rooms. In response, gasps of fear rippled from my neighbors. They were right to be afraid. Most of them would be dead in two hours.

But me? The jeering caused awe to ripple up my spine.

I’d seen this place from the outside hundreds of times, but standing inside let me feel the true enormity of this structure.

My stomach swooped at the thought. Maybe I hadn’t played this right.

I’d sought anonymity by selecting this room, but I’d underestimated the height of the Pinnacle.

Reaching the top didn’t feel so easy now.

Instead, it felt like the first round had already begun.

Stamping and shaking from above dislodged dirt from the rock ceiling, which floated down to settle on my shoulders. I touched the sheaths on my thighs, then rested my hand on the hilt of my father’s blade.

You are prepared for battle.

Death was not an option.

A hissing erupted, as if from the very walls. I’d heard the hissing signal from afar before.

Time to begin.

Demons from adjoining rooms started their wary trudge along the dripping hallway and toward the narrow stairwell.

I stepped into line.

A yellow-scaled demon ahead of me skittered out of my path to lurk in the algae-riddled shadows and let me pass.

Why the hell he’d entered Tiers was beyond me.

This game was a place for at least green-scaled demons.

Blues. Reds, certainly—not that reds should have a reason to enter the game when they had everything.

But Tiers was a game for the desperate, I supposed. Anyone could feel that. Me, for example. But shit, at least I didn’t have yellow scales.

I bid the yellow-scaled demon a silent farewell, then started up the stairs. I climbed three levels before my golden skin began its telltale itch.

Dammit. I’d hoped to reach the top.

Should I try to hold it in?

I peered ahead, then stole a look behind. Only yellows and oranges in sight, though greens and blues climbed close by. The longer I held this in, the more I would need to release.

I’d prefer not to release in the arena where he might see.

Nothing for it. I released a tiny jet of smoke from under my scales. The dancing tendril weaved to join the thick cloud of yellow, orange, blue, green, and purple smoke already filling the stairwell.

I held my breath.

Maybe…

Gasps rang out.

“Shit,” I muttered, glaring at the black tendril that was about as hidden as a solar eclipse.

“Black smoke,” someone hissed in the demon tongue.

Oyx Wehy. That was me, just your friendly backyard demon. Among other things. And nix the friendly part.

Prior to being dragged to this realm, I would’ve imagined the home of demons to be dark and grimy and scorching—like Hell or something, but the demon realm was a literal smoke rainbow.

If demons hadn’t otherwise lived up to my assumptions, then sixteen-year-old me might’ve dared to laugh.

But sixteen-year-old me had soon realized that rainbows didn’t include the color black.

No black smoke. No black scales. No black. In the entire demon realm.

How did I survive at sixteen?

One devastating reason that I’d love nothing more than to forget.

So I was Oyx Wehy. Irritatingly identifiable in a realm where I did not wish to be known. Being Oyx Wehy was overrated for many, many reasons, but the title didn’t even sound fearsome. Oyx was a mix between oi and ox, and Wehy was like way with more saliva and a little hiss.

As growls from above accompanied the surrounding gasps and mutters of “Oyx wehy,” the orange demon in front of me stopped.

I narrowly avoided a collision with her.

The demon’s back was tense. She didn’t dare move with a predator behind her.

Well, she assumed I was a predator, but no one in this realm really knew what a demon with black scales meant.

The line had stopped, and I could imagine the reason.

Demons craned to see me, pushing back down the stairs. Gazes dropped to my father’s blade. Louder growls and hisses—my father’s blade had that effect. Which might have something to do with him being the previous demon king.

Would they start walking again, or should I say something threatening? Drop a joke to lighten the mood? We were going to be flat mates for another three weeks. Not that I planned to be here except on game day.

I snorted, and a small scream escaped the orange demon in front.

My humor faded as the demons’ shock of discovering me in their midst faded into a deeper tension, a gathering intent that I felt under my ribs.

They were deciding whether to kill me now.

I blinked through the warnings of my body, then spoke in the demon tongue. “Would you like to fight here or in the arena?”

Here might not be too bad given the narrow confines. They could only come at me a few at a time. Though, could I beat hundreds of demons at once? Absolutely not.

The yellows dotted up the stairs were first to look away from my challenge.

The oranges were next, then the group of greens and blues at the far corner.

The three purples within my eyesight exchanged long looks, communicating devious plans before they, too, looked away.

The reds? I couldn’t see any from here, but I imagined they were forming a frantic plan to murder me.

Those at the front resumed their trek, and I shuffled forward with the others. The reds had decided that this wasn’t the place to kill me. Good for them.

I could expect a group attack from purples in the arena, and the reds would join.

I would have liked to avoid this in week one.

We must have been close to the top. The chambers were huge and decorated with bed hangings, towels, and rugs. Complete luxury in comparison to the rooms I’d climbed from.

Light flared at the end of the hall as the ground leveled out. The line of demons slowed, and I squinted at the bottleneck.

I knew this part from afar, which was proving a different reality altogether.

The line edged forward at a grating pace. The light flared brighter, and eventually, I stood at the very top of the Pinnacle.

I looked out at three hundred feet of thin air. All that interrupted that thin air was an almost equally thin, crumbling walkway. Three barely there pillars extended from the very distant ground to prop up the walkway.

A fucking mountain goat would run from this.

The strongest players had already wobbled across the walkway to our actual destination—the Crave Arena. I inhaled and took in the enormous arena that cast a huge shadow over the walkway and the much smaller Pinnacle… that I’d discovered was actually massive.

Why did I get the sinking feeling that my memories and onlooker perspective of the arena were as warped?

No one had been brave enough to push me. Yet. I stepped onto the crumbling path and released a breath, along with more smoke.

I wasn’t truly afraid of falling, and though I focused on my steps, I also took in the realm in my peripheries.

On my left, rainbow smoke shrouded the lower realm as far as the eye could see.

All the way to where the desert disappeared over the horizon.

The Pinnacle and arena were set atop the one and only mountain peak in the otherwise flat realm.

Another structure was set atop this peak too.

The royal fortress loomed to my right.

I didn’t give fear much space inside me after being afraid for so long, but fear found me once more as I was confronted by the sight of the very fortress I’d run from.

Fear was the worst kind of hunter, and I could never quite outrun it. But maybe, just maybe, if I pulled this off and got through all four rounds to win Tiers… maybe then I could be free.

A long scream disturbed the scuff of leather and calloused heel against stone and dirt.

A blue scale was hurtling toward the ground.

Did she fall off the walkway, or was she pushed?

I could guess, though the real question was whether or not the demon could portal. I’d say no, judging by her scale color.

A distant thud met my ears.

Dead. Unless she was very, very lucky. There were more than a couple of ways to kill a demon. Cracking enough scales so that a demon’s smoke could no longer be contained was one difficult way to achieve it.