Chapter 50
Young Kane's POV
That was my first year as a hostage.
I clearly remember the laughter of those soldiers outside the beast arena—coarse, grating, like rusted blades scraping against stone.
"How many hostages have been eaten now?"
"The tenth? Or the eleventh? Nobody cares anyway."
"They call them hostages, but they're just disposable pawns! As long as the Crimson Flame Warlord is here, even if ten thousand hostages die, what can those small wolf packs do?"
I huddled in the corner of the iron cage, fingers clutching my knees so tightly my nails nearly pierced the skin. Eight-year-old me didn't understand what political sacrifice meant—I only knew Father had sent me here, said it was for peace. But there was no peace here, only blood and death.
The iron door was kicked open, blinding sunlight flooding in. I instinctively raised my hand to shield my eyes.
"Your turn, little brat." A soldier tossed me a rusted iron sword, its blade still stained with brownish blood. "Don't disappoint the audience."
I picked up the sword, my wrist trembling slightly from its weight. The blade was severely corroded, its edge chipped—hardly a weapon at all.
As I was shoved into the arena, the surrounding clamor nearly shattered my eardrums. The stands were deafening with noise, every Blood River spectator roaring and howling, eyes gleaming with bloodthirsty excitement.
They wanted to see me torn to shreds, wanted to see Silver Moon's hostage crushed like an ant.
The iron gate opposite crashed open.
A meat-eating lizard crawled out from the darkness, as large as three horses, its surface covered in rigid scales that gleamed greenish-black in the sunlight. Its eyes were a murky yellow, pupils contracted to thin slits, tongue constantly flicking out with a hissing sound.
"That meat-eater has already swallowed twelve children!" someone in the stands shouted excitedly.
I gripped the sword hilt, feeling my palm slick with sweat.
The lizard moved. Its speed was terrifying, its four limbs carving deep claw marks in the ground as it lunged at me. I dodged sideways, slashing the blade across its flank, but it only produced a harsh scraping sound—the scales didn't budge, and the iron sword recoiled, numbing my grip.
Before I could react, its tail swept across, slamming heavily into me. I was sent flying, my back crashing against the stone wall, ribs screaming with pain.
"Get up! Get up!" the crowd chanted frantically.
I struggled to my feet, mouth full of the taste of blood. As the son of Silver Moon's Alpha, I'd received warrior training since childhood, had more combat experience than other kids my age, but what good was that? My weapon couldn't even pierce its defense.
The lizard charged again. I barely avoided its bite, only to be struck by its tail once more. This time, the sharp scales sliced across my right eye, blood instantly blurring my vision. I staggered back, wiping frantically with my sleeve, but the more I wiped, the less I could see.
It wouldn't give me a moment's respite. Attack after attack, dodge after dodge, my stamina draining rapidly. The impaired vision made my situation even more dangerous—several times I nearly had my throat bitten through.
The cheers from the stands grew louder. They were waiting for the final bloody spectacle.
I panted heavily, staring at that constantly flicking tongue. Before each attack, the tongue would probe out first—that was the only soft part. If I could stab into its oral cavity...
I deliberately exposed an opening. The lizard immediately pounced, jaws gaping wide. Its tongue wrapped around my arm. I didn't dodge, letting it drag me toward those massive jaws. The instant I was pulled into its mouth, I braced my shoulder against the upper and lower jaws, thrusting the iron sword upward!
The sword tip pierced the oral cavity wall but only penetrated halfway—I'd misjudged. Even the mouth, this broken sword couldn't pierce through!
The jaws began to close, bones making a teeth-grinding crunch. I could feel my shoulder being crushed, the agony nearly making me black out.
Just then, the iron sword in my hand suddenly ignited with crimson flames.
These weren't ordinary flames, but pure, searing fire that seemed capable of incinerating everything. The flames spread along the blade, scorching the lizard's mouth.
I used my last bit of strength to thrust upward again. This time, the blade pierced through its skull.
The lizard let out a piercing wail, its massive body crashing to the ground.
The entire arena fell silent, then erupted in deafening cheers. I crawled out from the lizard's mouth, covered in blood, right eye barely able to open, stumbling as I collapsed to the ground.
Someone carried me out of the arena.
My consciousness was hazy. I could only vaguely see a tall figure standing at the end of the passageway. He was powerfully built, wearing a suit of flame armor, his eyes golden, radiating intense authority.
"Aren't you going to thank the lord!" The lead guard roughly shoved me. "If not for the lord's elemental fire, you think that broken sword could've killed the meat-eater?"
I lifted my head, looking at the man.
"Th...thank you." My voice was so weak it was barely audible.
The man smiled—confident and warm, a smile I would never forget for the rest of my life.
"The Alpha created this arena to make enemy children fight beasts. I truly disapprove." He crouched down, golden eyes looking directly at me. "You have good foundation, just lack proper training. From today on, stay at my place."
I stared at him blankly, not knowing what to say.
"My name is Xavier." He reached out, patting my shoulder.
---
The hospital room was utterly silent.
I opened my eyes. Julian still sat beside the bed, looking at me with a complex expression.
"So that was..." he said quietly.
"That was the first time I met Ella's father," I said hoarsely. "But at that time, I didn't know he was the Crimson Flame Warlord..."
The shadow of war was closing in.
But right now, I just wanted to speak all those long-buried truths aloud.