22. The Games #2
I was probably the first northern warrior to make an appearance in this year’s Games.
When I stepped onto the yellow sandy ground, the herald, who announced each warrior’s name, clan, and title to the audience, shouted, “Now comes the famous Fire of the North, the ruthless warrior who made vampires shudder in fear, the three-year champion of the Northern Games, Fenris Winterthrope, son of Jarl Harald.”
The audience erupted in a loud cacophony of boos and catcalls. Apparently, they were already automatically rooting for my opponent, a southern warrior. But I wasn’t bothered by it at all. On the contrary, I chuckled in amusement. Now I would enjoy their shock and dismay even more when I won.
My first opponent was a southern female alpha warrior from the Ridgefall Clan. She was twice my size, stronger than a bull, wearing plate armour so thick that it was almost impossible to penetrate with any weapon. However, I knew it would also make her slow.
She chose a shield and mace as her weapons, while I went with an axe as I usually did.
When she charged at me, it felt like I was at the receiving end of a rumbling war machine; even the ground shook a little with each of her steps.
The size difference must have been stark in the spectators’ eyes.
I could hear the crowd cheering for her, expecting to see her crush me like a hammer crushing a thin nail.
I waited and waited until she was right in front of me, her mace raised high over my head.
I let her believe that she had me before ducking down the very moment her mace was about to smash my face.
I rolled past her side, feeling the rustle of wind scrape my cheek when her mace fell less than an inch away from my scalp.
It was an extremely risky move. One millisecond of miscalculation would have resulted in my head exploding like a watermelon, since she was definitely aiming to kill.
However, the reward was worth the risk. I slashed my axe through the small opening between her greaves and sabatons.
Her forward movement widened the gaps, exposing more of her ankles, which allowed me to cut into her Achilles tendons with one quick, precise swipe.
She howled in pain and lost her balance, crashing to the ground like a toppling tower. I then grabbed the tassel on her helmet and forced her to expose her neck, pressing the blade of my axe to her throat.
The entire stadium fell into absolute silence, as though no one could comprehend that the round was already over, until the herald proclaimed me as the winner.
It was said to be the shortest round so far, and when the physician deemed my opponent unfit for the next round, since her tendons were damaged and she couldn’t even stand until they were fully healed, it became the shortest match yet.
Until I marched back into the underhold with my head held high, my face plastered with a haughty smirk, the spectators were still in shock. The other warriors who were waiting for their turn also glared at me, half in animosity, half in awe, except for one.
Damien clapped his hands, his dark eyes locked on me, radiating heated intensity.
“What are you doing here?” I walked up to him. “I thought you princes had a special waiting area?”
“I came to see you,” he said quietly so that no one would hear us.
I rolled my eyes, though a smile leaked out of my facade of annoyance. “What for? Kiss me good luck? You are a bit late.”
“Then maybe you can kiss me good luck,” he whispered seductively. “I have three matches to win today, after all.”
I remembered my promise to him, and the mere thought of what might happen tonight sent a jolt to my crotch. I cleared my throat and glanced around, making sure no one was in earshot. “Just ... be careful. What if whoever wants you dead tries again during your match?”
“No one can assassinate me in fair combat, besides ...” He grinned wolfishly. “The thought of having you, all flushed and ready for me, keeps my will to live so high that even the Great Wolf himself can’t drag me away from this world.”
I jabbed my elbow into his chest furtively, not too hard, but enough to make him grunt, before going back to my room.
Damien was definitely winning.
After my first match, I watched his first and second matches through the barred gate of the underhold. If I thought my match was fast enough, Damien certainly had made it his mission to break my record.
His first match lasted only a few seconds. He moved so fast it was almost preternatural. I couldn’t even see his movement clearly before his opponent was already on the ground, with a sword pointed at his heart.
The audience went nuts, the omegas and female betas were throwing flowers and handkerchiefs at him, while the alphas and male betas chanted his name as though he were a god. Such a stark contrast to their reaction to my victory.
“Little bastard,” I murmured under my breath as I watched Damien salute the audience in the royal pavillion foppishly, though my heart was chipper and mellow knowing that he had won without many hiccups.
Due to time constraints and the number of fighters in the first elimination round, my second match ran concurrently with two other matches. That was when I noticed Allan Eclipse was in one of the other matches.
He was right there, on the other side of the arena, smiling cheekily at the omegas in the stands as though he weren’t a piece of shit.
I could only glare at him, unable to fly across half the arena to wrap my hand around his goddamned neck.
It made my hand twitch in repressed rage.
I glanced up at the grandstand, hoping Leif was alright, since this could be the first time he was seeing Allan after the incident.
Allan Eclipse’s presence distracted me, causing me to make a few mistakes in my first round and allowing my opponent to point his spear at my heart.
Although I lost the first round, I quickly recovered and knocked my opponent out in the second round.
He was too out of it to continue the third round, and I was once again proclaimed the winner of the match.
I glanced to the other side and saw Allan had won his match, too.
Good. That meant I might still face him in the next elimination round.
I took some time to change out of my dirty, blood-stained armour, bandaged up several small wounds, and changed into a clean tunic before I headed back to the grandstand.
Leif gave me a big hug, then chided me for scaring the shit out of him in the first round of my second match. I was only happy that my bad round distracted him from Allan Eclipse. Perhaps I should have failed even more epically.
Then came Damien’s last round, and his opponent was a rather well-known knight, Ser Garran. The knight was older and burlier in stature than Damien, and he was a well-established, formidable warrior. More importantly, he served under Damien’s older brother, Valerian.
I had been nervous about this match since I saw the name last night, which was why I warned Damien when he came to see me in the underhold. Damien trusted his brother had nothing to do with the assassination attempts, but what if he was wrong?
If the knight killed Damien during the match, it might be considered an accident ...
It was the last match of the day, and arguably the most anticipated one: the most beloved prince against the revered knight. And rather than starting the fight right away, they approached the royal pavillion and asked for blessings from their loved ones.
Ser Garran went directly to his mate, a graceful female omega in her early forties.
Damien slowly walked along the grandstand, smiling and waving to the crowd who loved him with such fervent passion as though they wanted to devour him.
The omegas and female betas had their eyes glued to his every movement, hoping he would stop in front of them, which would have meant he had set eyes on them as his mate.
But Damien never stopped, not even when he passed Lovel. The disappointment and anger were blatant on Lovel’s face, which, though I didn’t want to admit it, was incredibly satisfying to watch.
Suddenly, Damien’s steps halted. His gaze shot through several rows of omegas and met directly with mine.
I heard gasps and murmuring, though I realized most people around us thought he was looking at Leif. Only I knew the truth, and it made my heart thump heavily in my ribcage.
Damien raised his chin a little, and his right hand briefly touched the red garnet knife still hanging on his belt, before he turned away to face his foe, never saying a word.
I alone knew the meaning of his small gesture, and it made me feel ...
fluttery. Like an invisible hand was plucking at the strings in my heart, making them vibrate in a rhythm I couldn’t decipher.
However, the flutter soon turned into apprehension when the match began.
Ser Garran was not like the other warriors Damien, and I had met so far.
He was strong and steady, never rushing into anything.
He held his long sword before him, without any unnecessary flair.
Yet, no matter how fast Damien’s strikes were, or how he tried to trick the knight into making a mistake, Ser Garran just never fell for those traps.
He was steadier than the very ground we were standing on, and his defence was spotless, leaving not a hair of opening for Damien to exploit.
Gradually, Damien was slowing down, and his strength was wearing down with each blocked strike. Just then, Ser Garran began to attack. Each of his strikes was simple, direct, yet imbued with mighty power.