Chapter 97 Day Two Of The Duel
The arena thrummed with restless energy as the second day of the mate duel unfolded under a sky heavy with clouds. The sand pit had been raked smooth again, erasing yesterday’s blood, but the memory lingered in every wolf’s mind. Thirty dead. Five dying. The crowd filled the tiered benches to overflowing, voices rising in a constant murmur of bets, predictions, and grief. Banners from dozens of packs snapped in the wind, a riot of colors against the gray morning. The elders sat in their raised box, faces carved from stone. Fernando stood at the head, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the pit. Samael and Darius flanked him, silent sentinels.
Garrick stepped forward, raising both arms for silence. The roar died down to a tense hush.
“Day two of the mate duel continues,” he announced, voice carrying to the farthest bench. “Twenty combatants advanced from the weapon stage. Thirty candidates died. Five were seriously injured and may not survive.”
The crowd rose as one, fists to chests, heads bowed. A low, mournful howl began in the stands, spreading until the entire arena sang with it—honoring the dead, acknowledging the cost.
Fernando stepped beside Garrick. His voice was steady, but the strain showed in the tightness of his jaw. “The pack funds the burials. We provide weapons for their security. Their loss is ours.”
The howl swelled, then faded. Wolves sat again, eyes hard, waiting.
Garrick continued. “The second round begins. Combatants fight with wolf or power. First to submission or incapacitation advances. No killing unless the duel escalates.”
The crowd roared approval, the sound shaking the stone.
“The first match of the second round: Princess Eliana of the southern ridges versus Vargoth of the Midnight Wolves.”
The arena erupted.
Eliana entered first, tall and lithe, dark hair braided tight with silver threads. She walked to the center without weapons, her armor light, designed for speed. She shifted in a ripple of light, silver fur gleaming, eyes burning with confidence. The southern wolves cheered wildly.
Vargoth followed, massive and scarred, black cloak billowing. He shifted immediately, becoming a huge black wolf with one milky eye and one burning gold. The midnight wolves howled in support, a dark, guttural sound that sent chills through the crowd.
Garrick raised his hand. “Begin!”
Eliana struck first. She lunged in a blur of silver, claws extended, aiming for Vargoth’s throat. Vargoth met her head-on, massive paws slamming into her shoulders. They crashed together, snarling, rolling across the sand in a tangle of fur and teeth.
Eliana twisted free, faster than Vargoth’s bulk allowed. She raked his flank, drawing blood.
“First blood to Eliana,” Garrick called.
The crowd cheered.
Vargoth roared and charged, jaws snapping. Eliana dodged, leaping onto his back, claws sinking into his shoulders. She bit down hard on his scruff.
Vargoth bucked, throwing her off. She landed lightly, circling again.
“You are slow,” Eliana taunted, voice echoing in the pit. “Your pack is finished.”
Vargoth lunged again, faster this time. His claws caught her shoulder, tearing deep.
“First blood to Vargoth,” Garrick announced.
Eliana snarled. “Lucky.”
She attacked with blinding speed, claws flashing. Vargoth blocked with his forearms, but she slipped under and slashed his belly. Blood sprayed.
“Second blood to Eliana.”
Vargoth staggered, breathing hard. Eliana pressed, relentless, raking his sides, his legs. He snapped at her, missed.
She leaped onto his back again, claws digging deep. Vargoth reared, trying to shake her. She held on, biting his neck.
Vargoth collapsed to his knees.
Eliana shifted back to human form, standing over him, breathing hard, no scratches on her.
She looked at the midnight wolves’ section and laughed. “I will kill you all. And publicly announce Fernando is mine.”
The crowd went silent.
Garrick’s voice was heavy. “Eliana wins the round.”
The midnight wolves howled in rage.
Fernando watched, face unreadable.
The duel continued.
The arena thrummed under the heavy midday sun, the sand pit raked smooth after Eliana's victory over Vargoth. The tiered benches were packed with wolves from every allied pack, their voices a constant roar of anticipation and speculation. Banners snapped in the wind, colors clashing as the crowd waited for the next fight. The elders sat in their raised box, faces carved from stone. Fernando stood at the head, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the pit. Samael and Darius flanked him, silent but watchful.
Garrick stepped forward, raising both arms for silence. The roar died to a low hum.
"The second match of the second round," Garrick announced, voice booming across the arena. "Beau Crante from the regional west pack versus Lord Kaelor from the Shadowveil pack."
Beau Alberto in disguise walked to the weapons rack. The judge stopped him immediately.
"You cannot use weapons in this round," the judge said. "Wolf or power only."
Alberto paused, then nodded. He stepped back into the pit empty-handed.
Kaelor, already in the center, burst out laughing. "You either change to your wolf or use power to fight. You cannot fight with weapons here."
The crowd snickered.
Kaelor's laughter grew louder. "Spineless! Who sent this idiot to the ring?"
The stands roared with laughter.
Beau smiled behind the mask. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the pyra core Mira had given him earlier. The small red gem glowed faintly in his palm, warm and pulsing. Mira's words echoed in his mind: "Use it only if you must. It grants fire magic, but you must control it, or it will consume you with rage."
He closed his fist around it. The gem flared, heat spreading through his veins.
Kaelor shifted into wolf form, a huge black beast with glowing red eyes. He lunged, jaws snapping.
Alberto took the hits, letting Kaelor's claws rake his arms, his chest. Blood welled. He acted weak, stumbling back, arms raised defensively.
The crowd laughed harder.
Kaelor dropped his guard, circling. "Too easy. Submit now, or I will make it hurt."
Alberto waited.
Kaelor lunged again.
Alberto moved.
He opened his fist. The pyra core blazed red. Fire erupted from his hand in twin streams, slamming into Kaelor's chest. The wolf flew backward, crashing into the sand meters away.
The crowd gasped.
Kaelor's fur caught fire. Flames roared across his body, consuming the black coat in seconds. He howled in agony, rolling in the sand.
Guards rushed forward with buckets, struggling to quench the blaze.
Kaelor collapsed, charred and still.
Garrick's voice shook. "Beau Crante wins."
The arena went silent.
Then cheers erupted.
Alberto stood in the center, mask hiding his face, pyra core still glowing in his palm.
The duel had a new contender.