Chapter 1 #2
The wolfhound recoiled, gasping in a choked breath with the faintest hint of a whine. He flung his head sideways as he let her go. The blade slid free, and Elsie sailed through the air, colliding with the wall at the far end of the arena.
Elsie slumped to the ground, where she stayed for several seconds.
Ringing in her ears roared above all else, and the sand suddenly seemed all too comfortable a place to stay.
She knew better, though, and dragged herself to her feet.
A hunter’s biggest mistake was taking their eyes off their opponent in battle, even for a moment.
The hound backed away, shaking his head furiously and giving the sand a taste of his blood, like those who’d died before him. A few droplets formed shards of glass, then shattered where they fell.
He’d been in the perfect position to cause her real, lasting damage.
Not even their best healers could regrow a limb.
But the demon lacked the ruthlessness of a seasoned warrior; releasing her over a non-fatal wound was a mistake.
Hell, with a demon’s healing abilities, she’d barely hurt him.
His body was too tough, and her knife hadn’t gone as deep as she’d anticipated.
He must be young. She refused to think about why that realization bothered her.
Elsie kept the pressure on, following close and forcing his continued retreat. She couldn’t let him use his magic. His emotions shifted, resolve building with each step she took towards him.
He grew again, his size almost doubling until he towered above her. Bracing his muscles, he jumped over her head, giving himself more space to breathe. She whirled to face him when his fangs grazed the same arm, tearing the sleeve. Elsie gritted her teeth. She didn’t have time for this shit.
Recovered from her assault, the wolfhound streaked toward her, renewed rage making his movements faster, deadlier. They exchanged blow after blow, clashing, chasing, and retreating before coming together time and again.
Elsie gave as good as she got, collecting a new injury for each she gave in return.
Even without using his magic, he made her work for it.
A deep scowl settled on her face as the fight carried on well beyond a typical training session.
The results would be different if she weren’t coming into this fight after months of nonstop missions, wearing her down to exhaustion.
Something was wrong with this demon and his refusal to use magic. Even the cockiest demon threw their magic around when pressured. He was still playing with her.
He cut in too close, and Elsie just barely managed to twist out of the way.
She swung her knife with the arc of her deflection, hearing a metallic clink when her blade hit something hard instead of the demon’s throat.
Elsie jumped back, retreating halfway across the arena, squinting and trying to glimpse whatever was around his neck.
His head jerked up in surprise, and she caught a flash of what had blocked her blade. He wore one of the beastmaster’s ‘training’ collars. A sour, mutinous feeling churned in her stomach, and she faced the demon already sprinting her way.
Her mind raced faster than the creature blurring toward her.
Where had they gotten this demon? A young, trained, but inexperienced wolfhound like this one was typically still under pack protection.
Why would they force him to fight without his magic?
Were they covertly forcing her to take part in some sadistic humiliation ritual?
It was too late to back down now. The demon was fully enraged, and despite her misgivings about their fight, there was no way he’d listen to an attempted peace agreement. Shame burned hot, but it was only going to get worse. If she didn’t kill him, he’d be given back to the beastmaster.
She’d heard rumors of Clairemont and the torture he inflicted on his charges. All General Mordane approved, of course.
If she didn’t put the poor thing out of his misery, she’d consider herself responsible for any suffering he went through after. There was no possible way to him. As soon as she tried, she’d be labeled a traitor, and they’d both be killed. Putting him down was the only humane option.
He sensed the change in her intent the moment she made her decision. Ears pinned against his head, he went all in. The tide of their fight changed in his favor as he gained ground, using size, speed, and her exhaustion.
Blood splattered the sand and walls, and neither of them knew which stains belonged to whom. Restricted magic continually spilled out of the massive dog demon in fits and starts while Elsie shoved her own magic into her blade, trying to end this as quickly as possible.
His every attack was an attempt on her life. Sharp teeth snapped less than an inch from her face, her throat, her midriff. Elsie grinned. He was dangerous, and she hadn’t fought this hard in a long while.
“I’m sorry this has to happen,” she muttered, low enough that anyone watching wouldn’t catch it. The wolfhound snarled, leaping through the air, front paws landing on her shoulders.
As she fell, she got her knife up and into his leg, her free hand fisting a handful of sand to throw in his face. She spun before hitting the dirt, rolling out from under him to prevent being pinned. He stayed after her, forcing her to act fast in regaining her footing.
His size collapsed once more, giving him more speed, and before she could put space between them, his face was in hers.
Elsie threw power into her blade, this time driving it into his shoulder.
It sank deep, the magic she’d forced into it throwing the giant dog demon halfway across the arena, jerking her arm as the blade pulled free.
The wounds were adding up, and he was slower in getting to his feet. Elsie pressed the attack, infuriated that her knife was not enough to finish him off easily. If she had to kill something, she preferred to make it quick.
The demon’s lips drew back in a wolf-like grin, and her heart dropped as she felt his massive power gathering. He was going to use his magic, consequences be damned.
His fur stood on end, glowing with clear crystal shards gleaming with rainbow inflections. His dark eyes flashed white with power. He opened his mouth to howl, and the same light came pouring out. The dazzling display lasted for the entirety of one second before the collar crackled to life.
Electricity coursed into him, sizzling across the sand and leaving the air dangerously brittle. The hound gave a short, sharp scream that would be etched into her memory for decades to come, and then collapsed.
Skin covered in sweat, blood, and filth, Elsie stood panting, catching her breath and counting the seconds as the demon lay motionless.
This time, he didn’t get up. She hadn’t beaten him, not really.
He’d beaten himself by using his magic when he knew he shouldn’t have.
He’d been desperate, and this is what it had led to.
She only noticed the cheering, chanting, and gasping enthusiasm of the arena when it was gone.
Surrounded by a silence so deep that each soft crunch of her boots in the sand carried into the stands, Elsie straightened her spine and crossed the space between them with purpose.
She’d slit his throat, then they’d never be able to use him like this again.
With steel resolve, she vowed she’d never be used like this again.
Killing a demon in the arena wasn't forbidden, but it was frowned upon. Her audience collectively leaned forward, their curiosity prickling along Elsie’s skin. She could almost hear their questions. Would she finish him off or show mercy?
The demon was either unconscious or he no longer cared whether he lived or died. She stood over him, admitting to herself that he’d impressed her with his tenacity. He’d put up one hell of a fight.
His injuries weren’t showing signs of healing, and demons were known for their regenerative qualities. She had to be right. Someone was interfering in the outcome of their fight, and she had a pretty good idea of who it was.
Elsie pressed her knife to the beast’s throat, ignoring the low growl that proved his will to survive hadn’t ceased even in total defeat.
‘Even now you haven’t given up,’ she thought.
She flicked the blade through his thick fur and gritted her teeth at the confirmation. There it was, plain as day. A heavy metal collar, with electrical prongs pressed into his skin. Depending on how they were programmed, these collars could kill a demon for attempting to use their magic.
A quick flush of anger washed over her, this time on the demon’s behalf. She touched the seal engraved into the skin at her throat. The seal that buried her ethereal magic so deep she couldn’t even feel it anymore. They’d done to him what Santa Muerte had done to her.
She wouldn’t have beaten this demon without that collar. Especially fighting with nothing but a knife and her own strength. Even with the damned thing in place, she wasn’t walking away injury-free.
His magic would have been spectacular to watch in action. He must have been an absolute terror to capture.
Elsie searched for a motive behind bringing a creature like this into a compound full of recruits in training. She couldn’t think of anyone else on campus capable of doing what she’d just done. Maybe Albright, in his prime, but her mentor was aging. Slowing down.
She twisted the knife in her hand. She should kill him now, before they stopped her. But looking at him helpless and vulnerable made her feel lower than the filth beneath her feet.
‘This isn’t right, let him go,’ the thought crossed her mind so quickly it took a second for the shock to hit her. They’d kill her if she tried it.
A door leading to the locker rooms stood next to the gate. That door opened, and two familiar figures stepped out. General Mordane came first, a big grin on his stupid face. Then came her mentor, First Field Captain Albright.