Chapter 10 #2
A red, stronger than the others, evident by the deeper hue of her scales, stepped forward from the line of other reds. The purples and blues halted at her order and drew back their smoke.
The red female swayed in a predator’s gait to my decoy, her killing intent clear in every step. “I thought you were meant to be powerful,” she mocked.
I mean, the odds were stacked, but maybe she didn’t wish to diminish her kill.
I pursed my lips, casting a look after the orange.
He was nearly at the checkpoint. Killing him was the quickest choice, though not the wisest. The magical double trick that I’d used today wouldn’t work a second time.
Not as well anyway. Part of my decision to fight in the arena had been to win over Carmine’s subjects, and that meant winning their respect.
Bloodthirstiness. That was what demons revered—the bravery and simplicity of inflicting pain because that was our food source.
There was a trust reserved for demons who sought battle in pursuit of survival and strength.
Part of me might not wish to be that woman.
I’d entered this game determined to only take my single kill each week.
But I had to become someone else to win everything, and not just the game. I needed demons on my side in the end.
For him. My son.
For her. My twin.
The smoke had all but cleared from my mob of attackers as they stood back to allow the strongest red her kill.
The row of reds and purples was closest to me, and every one of them was facing away.
The other members of my ambush party were taking their chance to run or kill each other now that I was apparently defeated.
They didn’t want to be the strongest demons’ next kill.
All of the strongest opponents faced my decoy, who had cleverly dropped to her knees to force their attention away from the checkpoint.
I couldn’t pass this up, or I’d regret it next week.
I blurred toward the reds and strongest purples, closing the distance at a blurring pace. Six hundred feet, five hundred, three hundred, one hundred.
Fifty feet away, I unsheathed my father’s blade. The one infused with so much of his power. Grandmother gave me this blade when I was fifteen, and I had wondered at the time why she gave me the mighty blade and Tempest the dagger—in that Tempest’s power was so much greater.
I didn’t need to wonder why anymore. Not with the demon power filling me. This blade was mine.
Over the last twenty feet, a mere second of my sprint, I allowed the blade to drag across stone. That was all the warning they’d get.
The whine of blade on rock made the nearest demons in the row leap and whirl.
These weren’t powerful crimsons. Most of the reds had barely any scales around their necks, and the scales on the necks of the purples didn’t present much of an obstacle.
In other words, as I blurred down the line of reds, decapitating them with my father’s blade, the job was not physically difficult.
But they were reds and strong purples, and so by the time I arrested my sprint to look back, I was panting from the drain in my power. I’d had to push a fair amount of power through the sword to combat their collective smoke.
The first head slid forward to the stone. A red. Then the next. The strongest purple. In a beautiful wave of death, the remaining seven heads slid forward to thump on the stone and roll to join the others.
My chest rose and fell with the recovery from my sprint and the exertion of power.
The arena shook with the crowd’s approval. I was brave. I’d chased battle.
I was a worthy demon.
Only then did the strongest red glance away from my decoy to follow the shocked looks of the rest of my ambush party.
She blinked at me, then whipped back to stare at my decoy, just in time to see decoy me float away in wisps of black smoke.
“Blesopil!” she hissed.
Clearly not impossible, but a first, yes. I cocked a brow at the spiked ball at her feet and the chain attached. “I know your cousin, demon.”
My gut twinged, and my divination magic flared. Yep, I really had to start training with my divination magic. Because with that simple twinge, I could just see how this would go.
I stepped to the right as she flicked her wrist and used her magic to help the spiked ball hurtle to where I had been.
The red ran at me, punching at my head. I rotated to dodge.
Ah, that was how Tygrio disoriented me to distract me from the spiked ball. The red had used the same tactic. Her weapon was now behind me. The chain was in her hand.
She smirked and twitched her hand.
I jumped to flip backward. In the air, I shielded my leg, then kicked at the spiked ball to alter its route.
Into her face.
Her smirk morphed to shock, and then… well, it was hard to tell her expression after that. I landed on my feet, and the roaring of the crowd reminded me of their presence.
The rest of the ambush party had opted against returning, for some reason. They’d eventually build up the courage to return for a group attack, though, and I had just expended some serious power.
If they were smart, then this would have been the exact time to attack me again.
I walked to the red despite my fatigued power. I couldn’t let her live. Her face was lost amid the spiked ball, but incredibly, she could survive this. Demons were like cockroaches, but sexier and more lethal.
Perhaps a cockroach was a bad analogy.
A shuffle alerted me to the presence of another. Ah! My favorite yellow.
He held up his hands and inched back.
The demon hadn’t killed anyone yet, presumedly, and all the other oranges and yellows were gone or dead by now.
I just quite fucking enjoyed this yellow.
I nudged the red’s body. “If you can take off her head, she’s yours.”
The yellow’s eyes widened and then lowered to the red. His throat worked. “Can I use your sword?”
My father’s sword? The sword that had belonged to the previous ruler of the demon realm? That old, cheap thing? Laughter burst from my lips. “Yeah, why not. Go ahead.”
I held out the weapon, and the yellow didn’t waste time taking it. I’d expected him to shuffle cautiously forward and waste my time.
I was liking this guy more and more.
The yellow sawed at what remained of the red’s neck and head. She had a few scales up her neck, unlike the others, and his power would be very little help in the task.
I grinned.
He grunted, sawing back and forth, and when the red’s head and the spiked ball rolled aside, he broke into a wide grin too. “I did it.”
Passing back the ancient and royal blade he’d borrowed, the yellow beamed at me.
Oh man, I really liked him. “Great job, champ.”
I took off for the checkpoint. This game had lasted far too long for comfort. Though, by the shaking of the arena and the chanting of my name, I’d won more than one victory in Tiers today.
Three purples had planted themselves between me and the checkpoint.
I withheld a groan. The finale was back there, didn’t they know? This was the encore I didn’t want. Though the crowd didn’t agree.
How much power did I have left? Not enough that I could physically fight them for long. Whatever I did had to be quick.
My lips spread in a smirk.
My grandmother had told us of one of her battle strategies when my mother was out one day. She’d spoken so wistfully of the strategy, but had admitted she’d never quite been in a situation that demanded the gore.
Tempest and I had played pretend with our dolls and the strategy for years before tiring of the game.
I was going to do it.
I portaled inside the middle purple demon. She couldn’t possibly hold my power. She exploded in every direction, scattering into hundreds of chunks that showered the demons beside her. They scrambled away in a blind panic.
Joy.
I felt joy that couldn’t be contained. I threw my head back to give voice to my laughter and glee. A childhood dream come true. That was everything I had imagined it would be and more. Dolls really didn’t explode that way.
The purple’s blood burned at my skin, and I released my magus magic on reflex, surprised when the divination cooled my skin.
“If you could see me now, Grandmother.” I chuckled.
I walked inside the checkpoint.
Only then did some of the glee siphon away to remind me of the cold fear that had driven me to battle in the first place.
I’d survived. I’d made it through the second round.
A tremor rippled through me, and the tremor wasn’t just sheer, desperate relief that I would live to see my son for another week.
It was weakness too.
I’d killed nine strong opponents and then expended power to incapacitate the strongest red too. And then I’d portaled inside a purple to explode her everywhere. On top of creating my decoy, and a couple of portals, and a few power-infused sprints…
I’d overspent my power.
Oyx Wehy!
The crowd roared my name. So they should. I’d given them a great show. And now I didn’t have enough power left to portal to the fortress.
“Fuck my life,” I said, scanning the checkpoint filled with other yellows, oranges, purples, and blues. One red remained who hadn’t mobbed with the others. Surprising.
The yellow scale jogged into the checkpoint behind me, and I found enough energy for a weary chuckle. That guy was the luckiest demon in existence.
I wiped sweat or blood from my face and blew out a breath. No way was I returning to the Pinnacle in this state.
That left one option.
Which—wow—I’d never considered that side of the game before. A player couldn’t give their all in the arena because they had to live through another week in the Pinnacle, too, if they couldn’t portal.
I jumped up and hooked my hands on the bottom tier of crowd seating. The demons there screamed in delight, reaching to touch me.
“Oyx Wehy!”
I ignored them to bound up to the next tier.
Then the next.
This arena was steep, and I was not in great shape. I couldn’t show any trace of weakness, and there was only one other demon who would also hide my weakness.