Chapter Nine #2
“Now give it up for our reigning champion, The Skull Crusher!” Fang shouts, and this time the crowd erupts into primal cheers, shouting things like “FUCK YEAH!” and “CRUSH HIS SKULL!”
My heart stills for a moment. It’s like this whole place is crumbling down around me. I try to breathe, but my lungs fight me. My first reaction is to place my trembling fingers over my mouth in shock.
The ‘Skull Crusher’.
The man that Ryder is expected to fight towers over him, his body thick with hard ridges of muscle, the type of body that looks absolutely impenetrable.
I fear a blade to his skin would break the knife.
Fang said that he was the reigning champion, and I don’t doubt it for a second.
The stone in the pit is stained a musty brown with dried blood, and I don’t have to imagine that most of it has probably been spilt by him.
I swallow down my anxiety with a hard gulp.
Ryder’s eyes widen upon first glance at the size of his opponent, but they quickly narrow to a fierceness, like an elion sizing up its prey. His arrogance still follows him; he does not look fazed by the monster in front of him.
“You all know the drill. No Gifts. One survivor.” Fang shouts, and the crowd shouts with him. “Let the best man win!”
The skull crusher doesn’t waste any time moving in on Ryder.
With fists clenched like blocks of cement, he hammers down fast in Ryder’s direction.
Ryder ducks low and manoeuvres out of the firing line, the skull crusher’s fists making contact with the stone pit instead of him.
The ground reverberates, like brick colliding with brick and a crack forms like a vein in the stone below.
Now I know how he got his nickname.
I flinch at this hit, my head wants me to look away, but my eyes don’t want to miss a minute.
The skull crusher isn’t wearing a shirt; his rotund stomach precedes him just like his reputation.
There is something about him that unsettles my stomach, something not quite right.
His proportions look slightly off, his arms a little too long for his body.
At first glance, it’s not evident, but the more I look at him, the more his figure resembles that of a gorilla.
A seven-foot-tall gorilla with tattoos and scars tarnishing his white skin.
So his skin can be broken.
His hits have immense strength, but the pure weight renders him a little slower than Ryder.
He uses this to his advantage and jumps around the ring, circling the skull crusher like a shark.
Ryder jumps in close every so often, landing quick, hard jabs to his opponent’s ribs.
The skull crusher barely registers the hits, like his skin is made of armour.
It’s going to take a lot more than that to bring him down.
I watch with one eye open, my heart tugging on Ryder’s strings, a puppet to everyone of his movements.
The skull crusher’s fists are white-knuckled again as he pummels towards Ryder like a windmill; his hits are aggressive with immense driving force.
My heart jumps as Ryder is forced back by his swings, the edge of the pit warning his ankles that he is too close to the outskirts.
It thumps out of my chest, and for a second, I forget about the discriminative eyes that may be watching me.
My hand motions to the left only a millimetre, but enough to cause the man to stumble, tripping over his foot.
I am sure no one saw me use my power of Influence, they all continue to jeer, and snarl and the skull crusher looks perplexed and a little embarrassed at his forced lack of judgement.
But Ryder’s eyes are on mine; they speak a thousand words.
A thousand warnings. He knows I interfered, and he does not look happy about it.
Although my meddling frustrated him, it gave him a little extra time to think about his next move.
Ryder ducks low to the ground and rolls between the skull crusher’s legs, sliding out the other side of him.
In a quick second judgment, he runs and jumps into the air, aiming a sharp kick to the centre of the skull crusher’s back.
Ryder’s foot drives into him with force, knocking him down to his knees as they smash into the edge of the stone, and his body crashes hard into the ground below; the pit shakes with his force.
“The bigger they are, the harder they fall.” Ryder declares, and an unnerved chuckle escapes my mouth. The crowd now shouts again for Ryder, this time with a new hunger, a realisation that he may defy all odds and crush the man that crushes skulls.
Ryder’s opponent’s fists dig into the stone below as he lifts his body back up, his knees dripping with bright red blood. Anger erupts out of him like a firework; his steps now striding with retribution towards Ryder. But Ryder just smirks at him.
My eyes watch him in disbelief; his demeanour really is stoic, not an ounce of fear drips off of him. He saunters around, comfortable in the uncomfortable. I once read somewhere that a cockroach can live in almost any condition
—Ryder is a cockroach.
“This is getting boring now.” Ryder taunts, beckoning his opponent towards him. A fury lights up the large man’s face, igniting his eyes. He sends a strong blow into Ryder’s stomach, making him cough and splutter. The crowd roars again, but I’m sure my heart just stopped.
Ryder is thrown back into the side of the pit, clenching his stomach, a blue bruise already forming around his ribs. The skull crusher lands his dense weight on top of him, and his fist readies to hammer down on Ryder’s face. I can’t breathe.
As the skull crusher’s hand crashes down in Ryder’s direction, it is blocked by his forearm as a lilac fire claims the rims of his eyes; they burn bright and spread like a rage threatening to turn anything they touch into embers. Only for a second.
The mindless drones watching just hungry for blood fail to notice the switch in Ryder, but my eyes have been stuck to him like glue, my heart in torment with this sick show.
My trembling fingers hide the gape of my mouth as the skull crusher’s eyes widen.
He saw the magenta gradient in his eyes, the darkening of the lines in his forehead and the tightening in his jaw.
If he looked fierce before, he looks dangerous now.
His black veins dance under the pressure like the weight is nothing.
The man drives with all of his strength to penetrate the wall that is Ryder’s arm until he is blue in the face. But Ryder is stronger.
At least in that arm anyway.
He stretches his arm out, lifting the skull crusher like he is weightless.
An act that seems to defy all physics and gravity.
The man’s face confuses as he bears down on Ryder, aiming punches that don’t make contact.
Ryder slams him into the ground below, and the veins in the stone deepen.
He lunges on top of him and lands three quick and hard hits into the centre of the man’s skull, and blood begins to splay and seep into the veins.
The crowd erupts into savagery, snaring their teeth and grinning sadistically, their eyes clinging onto each punch like a lifeline, lingering on the pain and blood spilt to satiate their perverted desires.
I want to tell him to stop, to let his opponent live, but if only one of them is walking out of here alive, it has to be Ryder.
He hits the man again and again until he is nothing but a trench in the sunken pit, the stone chiselled around his flattened head.
I think I’m going to be sick.
“Venom!” The crowd rallies, roaring mightily, and the clanking of coins being exchanged is apparent. Most of them have scowls on their faces, letting their gold coins go. I don’t think anyone here expected the underdog to win. But thank the Gods he did.
“Come on, lets get out of here,” Ryder says to me, dragging me from the crowd towards the pit. The soles of my shoes dampen under the river of blood seeping through the new canyons made in the stone.
“Not so fast.” Fang stops him, but his voice is barely audible over the shouting from the crowd.
“You defeated the reigning champion.” He says, his smile unsettling.
“That makes you the new reigning champion. And a reigning champion can’t leave.
There’s too much money to be made.” He shows his teeth now and caresses a gold coin up to his eye line.
“You said one Fang. I’m done.” Ryder spits, walking us away from him.
“And you said you weren’t gonna steal from me and yet you took my fucking sword.” Fang snarls with bitterness. “We all said things we didn’t mean.” He laughs, and my knuckles tighten around Ryder’s wrist in angst.
Gods, he is making me so fucking mad.
“You can’t do that.” I butt in. “He fought for you. He did what you said. I’m sure he made you plenty of money tonight.” I spit at him, my eyes narrowing in on him like he is prey.
“It’s not about money, it’s about loyalty.” Fang spits. “And it’s none of your fuckin business anyway.”
“Actually, it is my business—”
“Asha no,” Ryder says, his eyes wanting me to stop, but I can’t.
“I’ve spent long enough down in this Godforsaken place, and there’s no way we are staying a minute longer.” My teeth clench together as I speak, the anger bubbling fast beneath my veins.
“Tell your bitch to shut up.” Fang taunts, and Ryder snarls at him with closed fists.
A fire burns like lava deep in my bones, and something snaps.
My light powers show themselves, shooting through the air like bullets, just like in Mr Herringford’s class.
The orbs light up the dingy atmosphere like a beacon, and the crowds of people duck and dodge them in surprise.
Then there is silence.
Nothing but immense fucking silence, and I want the pit to swallow me up.
Fuck. All eyes latch onto me, staring like I am a sickness they want to eradicate.
“Shit,” Ryder mutters. “Come on.” He takes my hand, and his shadows seep over us like a shield until I see nothing but darkness.
We are running again, the shadow sticking to us like armour protecting us and deflecting any weapon that tries to break through.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” I say between breaths.
Ryder’s grip on me is so tight that my feet barely make contact with the ground.
He doesn’t respond, just carries on running, his shadows barging pedestrians out of the way, making room for us.
I can hear the loud cries and shouts of the people behind us, chanting like warriors.
“Sun. Sun. Kill her.” They sharpen their pitchforks with their words.
Chinese whispers are causing ripples of widespread panic throughout the sea of people.
Ryder pulls me fast into a side alley and drags me through a wooden door to a derelict building.
The voices are still as the door shuts, and my lungs try to catch up with the air they have lost.
“Quick. Portal.” He says, and I don’t have to skip a beat to conjure it.
We run through, landing on the bones of the old Sun temple, our hearts in our throats. But we made it out alive.