Chapter 1
She tasted blood in the air, both old and new. Sweat, tears, and the overwhelming rot of death had all built up over decades to develop a pungent, coppery stench that was distinctly the arena. Elsie stood in the center, ignoring the crowd packed into the stands above as they watched her every move.
Her eyes burned, body heavy and sluggish from lack of sleep. Her team had returned late last night, and she’d stayed up for her debriefing, which meant she’d managed all of twenty minutes of shut-eye before Albright had come pounding on her door.
He’d dragged her out of bed wearing the same clothes from the day before, hair in disarray. Her only weapon was the knife she’d grabbed on the way out. At least he’d allowed her time enough to put her boots on. The rust-tinged sand of the arena floor was cold this early in the morning.
Exhaustion didn’t matter when she’d been thrown into a fight she hadn’t asked for. Years of training had her operating on instinct. Her muscles relaxed, hands loose at her sides as she watched the gate.
The metallic shriek of heavy chains grinding into motion filled the air, grating against Elsie’s nerves. The din of the crowd fell away until all she heard was the creaking and groaning as the gate slowly drew upward. Whatever came out of there, she was not afraid.
Pale lavender eyes lifted, trained on the opening.
She waited, expecting a demon to come bursting out of its cage, ready for a fight.
They were smart creatures, demons. They knew there was no point in trying to bargain or plead for their lives.
Their only hope for survival was to fight their way out.
An unfortunate impossibility, since in its history, not a single demon had managed to escape the arena.
Albright hadn’t given her any information of practical use going into this fight. Not that a warning would have been useful, given the lack of prep time. The bastards hadn’t even let her get a proper cup of coffee.
The gate clamored to a stop, standing fully open, but nothing happened. All she saw was darkness. Onlookers murmured in the stands as they leaned forward, trying to get a glimpse of whatever creature hid within.
The beast kept them waiting, building anticipation. A low hum came from above, with a few soldiers hanging over the top railing to try getting a better look. The noise grew with every second of delayed action.
This demon was cautious, assessing the new situation and letting its eyes adjust to the sudden influx of light.
The practice demons were kept in a dark box to keep them calm and quiet, right up until they were released into the arena.
When that gate opened, the sights, scents, and sounds added to a rush of adrenaline that usually pushed them into immediate action.
“By all means, take your time,” Elsie muttered, her patience growing thin. The faster she finished this fight, the faster she was cozy in bed back in the officer’s quarters.
The softest of sounds came from within, and her ears pricked with interest. She shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, ready to spring in any direction necessary. The footsteps of something inhuman padded toward the gate on four massive paws.
A snout appeared in the opening, and the damned thing had to bow its head to fit, shoulders brushing the gate as it came through.
The demon took its time, observing its surroundings, even looking up into the stands before its gaze settled on Elsie.
The tendrils of his mind reached out to prod at her mental defenses, gauging the situation.
This wasn’t going to be an easy fight.
In her experience, demons that big were more often than not using a glamour or illusion magic to give them the appearance of size.
This was not one of them. He didn’t have to pretend to be something he wasn’t.
This demon had power, and a lot of it. Worse, his scrutiny was already proving he had the brains to use it properly.
Bristling with rage and fear, his dark, steel-gray fur glistened with iridescent flecks of soot and silver that stood out under the arena’s harsh lights.
His lips drew back in a snarl, a low growl in his throat.
Elsie swallowed and cursed under her breath.
Where the fuck had they found a wolfhound demon?
The crowd above drew in a loud, collective gasp, and she couldn’t blame them. The beast was an impressive sight.
Wolfhound demons were rare, and his power level was well beyond the arena’s typical training demons. She’d certainly never fought anything this strong on her own before.
Elsie was the best the hunters had, and she knew it. But they wanted her to fight this monster alone, with no sleep, no preparation, and no proper weapons?! This was clearly harassment.
And for what, a training demonstration for the new recruits? Were the educators intending to scare them out of their wits before they hit the field?
She’d spent too much time in awe of the beast, and he’d finished his assessment. The demon lunged, its massive size collapsing with a booming thunderclap, giving him speed as he closed the distance between them in less than a second.
Elsie pushed back and spun to the side, letting him breeze past her, wiry fur brushing her leather-covered thigh.
He was fast! She pivoted, trying to keep an eye on him, but he was already behind her, coming in for another attempt.
She grunted, barely sidestepping in time, and before she knew it, she was locked in a battle of speed, where one wrong move would cost her a limb.
It was a deadly dance of pure instinct. Bracing and dodging, ducking and sliding. Her mind raced to form a plan. She palmed her knife, cursing under her breath. Albright would be getting an earful about this later.
Their movements kicked up dust from the sand, making the air murky as the metallic scent of blood filled the air. Untold numbers of demons had fought and died here, their life’s blood seeping in to stain and become part of the substrate.
In quick glances, Elsie searched the ground for his magical signature, trying to figure out what element he would throw her way when he finished toying with her. It was a talent passed down by her mad king father. She saw traces of magic left behind by magical creatures, great or small.
There were plenty of fading trails from demons who’d fought there in past weeks, but nothing fresher than a few days old. This demon had magic in spades, simmering beneath the surface, but she couldn’t find the slightest trace of it actually being used.
She grunted at a near miss while scraping the dark recesses of her mind for memories of what type of magic wolfhounds typically possessed. These things hunted down entire demonic wolf packs for fun, which meant whatever magic he used, he’d be packing one hell of a punch.
Elsie threw her arm up to block a lunging fang, then pivoted as he sprang away. The hound lurked along the wall, attempting to circle around her.
He watched her, calculating and patient, but angry. His head tilted slightly, keeping one eye on her. The demon’s initial attack hadn’t worked in his favor, forcing him to devise a new strategy.
The faintest shimmer rippled across his fur, breaking off and sparkling until it shattered upon hitting the sand. Distracted, Elsie’s eyes followed it for a fraction of a second. He darted in, teeth bared, but he’d let her see too much.
Crystal magic. A magic even more unpredictable and dangerous than the air element.
An air elemental could trap you in a bubble and suck out all the oxygen.
A light moon elemental? The best among them could crystallize the moisture inside a person’s lungs.
Or, even more terrifying, they’d crystallize a person’s blood, weaponizing the shards and destroying their enemy from within.
That’s the magic this demon had inside of him. So why wasn’t he using it? She didn’t wait around to find out.
Elsie lunged toward her opponent as he closed in, grabbing a thick foreleg with both hands to yank him off his feet. The ground rippled with power as he slammed into it, skidding several feet with the force of his momentum.
Earth magic. He was a dual wielder, holding within him both the most commonplace magic and one of the rarest. Dual wielders weren’t unheard of among magical creatures, but she came across them less often these days as all types of magic were dwindling away.
She rushed forward, knife at the ready, and for a hair’s breadth of a second their eyes met. The depth of his hatred was staggering. She hesitated, and he used the opportunity to slip out of reach.
His size fluctuated from one movement to the next. He’d lunge in at full size, throwing his heavy weight around, then when she blocked his attack or went on the offensive, he’d shrink to turn on the speed and put distance between them.
“Come on, Else, finish it already. It’s our day off!” a familiar voice jeered from the crowd, followed by a shout of agreement. Elsie smirked at the complaint until she realized what hearing that voice meant, and the smirk became a frown.
Albright had a bigger motive for harassing her this morning. They’d dragged her squad out for this spectacle, too. And that just pissed her off. They’d only arrived back from their latest mission a few hours ago; her people deserved some rest, damn it!
Focused on her, the demon didn’t so much as cock an ear toward the shout. He growled at her change in demeanor. Streaking toward her, he flashed his fangs, aiming for her throat. Elsie snarled right back and took his charge head-on.
She rushed at him, throwing off his timing, but it wasn’t enough.
A collective gasp echoed through the crowd when he managed to grab hold of her left arm.
Elsie twisted and shoved the knife into his mouth before he could snap his jaws shut.
Slicing upward, the blade connected with the roof of his mouth.