Chapter 35
Thirty-five
“The first match has been decided. Leo Vance, Miles Zeno, and Lenny Jorston, please proceed to the officials in the center of the arena, who will star-shoot you up to the platform.” While Leo and Miles are a fair match, Lenny, unfortunately, is not.
The Kosmos doesn’t care about fairness, though.
Only what will provide the highest form of entertainment.
I bite my lip as I watch them disappear.
The rest of us remain on the ground, making our vantage point difficult to gain logistics.
The three reappear atop the beam and quickly take their places.
I breathe a sigh of relief when both Lenny and Leo are placed on the end with Miles sandwiched in the middle.
Not that Miles will make this easy—he’s a beast.
The two descend on Miles, who is ferally fending off both, from what I can see.
A glint of light catches my eye. They have weapons up there?
As if this weren’t dangerous enough. Lenny’s lanky form is being pushed further to the edge of the beam, and he’s losing ground quickly.
Leo slashes at Miles, but his attempts to reengage Miles are ignored; the predator has honed in on his prey.
Lenny takes a step backward only to run out of room on the platform.
He loses his balance before toppling through the air in a free fall.
My heart plummets into my stomach. “Lenny!” I scream, jumping from my chair.
Helplessness slams into my body as I watch him fall further down, limbs flailing.
I can’t watch this; I’m going to be sick.
Tears pool in my eyes as I hyperventilate.
Not Lenny, please not Lenny. Without warning, his body lands with a springy bounce, midair.
I blink repeatedly to ensure I’m not seeing things.
There’s an invisible safety net, or something to that effect.
Is this the work of the air element? I couldn’t care less who or what is responsible, just that he’s okay.
Lenny bounces several more times before stilling.
He tentatively looks around him and tests the net, as if he cannot believe his eyes.
I can’t either, buddy. I suppose without the net, the Kosmos risks losing every human in this challenge.
Then they wouldn’t have anyone to collect their precious moonstone.
I look up to check on Leo and am surprised to see him barreling his shoulder into Miles to push him off.
The move works, yet Leo also loses his footing.
He lies on the beam, belly down, watching Miles fall below him.
With a struggle, he stands, and the horn sounds.
Is he hurt? It’s impossible to make out anything from down here.
Leo won his round and another moonstone fragment.
Pride radiates from my soul. That’s my man.
“For your next match, Atlas Quell, Aria Zollo, and Celeste Gayton. Please proceed to an official for help reaching the platform.” Celeste flashes a confident smile my way before ascending.
She doesn’t seem concerned about the match in the slightest, which is more than I can say.
Atlas is facing off against Aria and Celeste.
The three are slower to start than the first group.
I don’t blame the hesitancy. How could I try to beat one of my closest friends?
Atlas, stationed in the middle at a disadvantage, makes the first move, striking his longsword against Celeste.
Celeste, the goddess, looks like a warrior wielding her sword in the sky.
Echoes of metal clash throughout the coliseum as her and Atlas’s swords meet.
The two are well matched, each holding their ground in a hypnotizing dance.
Aria attempts to gain ground on Atlas, attacking from the opposite side.
Atlas, however, parries with ease. He’s a natural with a weapon; he swings his sword around his body as if the metal extends his arm.
Celeste and Aria simultaneously attack, likely looking to overpower Atlas.
The plan backfires. Celeste’s thrust of her sword contacts Atlas’s arm—an unexpected blow that has Atlas stumbling into Aria.
Aria immediately loses her balance, falling sideways off the beam.
Atlas lashes out, attempting to grab Celeste to steady himself, but the movement sends both tumbling head over heels off the platform.
Once all three hit the invisible barrier, the horn blows, signaling the end of the round. With no winner in this second match, I’m understanding that this is going to be even more difficult than it looks.
“The third match will comprise Solene Lox, Zellie Toro, and Merri Trask. Please proceed to the officials who will star-shoot you to the platform.” The amplified female voice booms.
As I brace myself for the burning and disorienting sensations accompanied by star-shooting, the realization of facing off against Solene has me dreading what could be my most laborious challenge yet.