Chapter 80 Eighty.
Chapter 80 Eighty.
OLIVIA’S POV.
I clean my boots with a rag as I sit on my bed, and I am reminded of the time Isadora brought it over to my room courtesy of King Sven.
It was the first gift I ever got from him.
Speaking of King Sven, ever since I lulled him to sleep at midnight, he had slept till daybreak in the next morning and had only stirred awake because Isadora had come looking for him for a council meeting they had scheduled. King Sven had woken up, and without even glancing at me, he left the room.
I did not see him throughout yesterday. Not even Isadora, who I want to talk to in regards to what Eliana had told me.
A sigh escapes my lips as I begin to put the boots on.
I have torn the bandages off my ankles this morning because I feel no pain, but there is still a bandage around my neck because of the slight irritation there, even after I applied an ointment on it after I finished bathing.
I pick up my broken staff and hold both pieces once I am done and prepare to leave for my next battle.
I leave the room and head towards the Pegasus — inside the colosseum, where the fight would be taking place as usual. People stare at me as I walk, but I do not pay them any attention.
Normally, I do not walk alone, but today I do.
The weight of my broken staff feels different in my hands today, in a way that makes my palms itch. I keep my head down, going through the corridors. Just as I am about to pass the threshold leading toward the fighter staging tunnels, a sharp flash of red robes catches my eye.
Isadora is rushing down an adjacent hallway, followed by two people. From their cloaks they seem to be King Sven gammas.
She looks deeply focused, her brow furrowed over a thick stack of sealed ledgers she holds tightly against her chest. She is clearly heading somewhere incredibly important.
Still, “Isadora!” I call out, picking up my pace despite the slight twinge in my ankles.
She halts, the gammas immediately shifting into defensive stances before she waves them down with an impatient flick of her wrist. When she turns to face me, her expression is sharp. “Olivia. You should be in the staging tunnel. What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you,” I say, dropping my voice to a sharp whisper as I step closer, ignoring the cold glares of the gammas. “I heard something you will want to know.”
Isadora’s eyes narrow, but her face remains an unreadable mask. “I do not have time for that right now, Olivia,” she says softly. “The council is currently dealing with a severe crisis on the Southern border. I am expected at the Southern borders at this very moment.”
“I promise you would want to hear this,” I press. “Adrian is planning something. Eliana said he has evidence that you are a traitor. She said Sven is going to replace you with him, and—”
“There is no time for this,” Isadora cuts me off. She steps directly into my personal space, her red robes rustling. Her voice remains soft as she speaks. “Listen to me very carefully, Olivia. You are a fighter in the Dance of the Dead. Your only purpose, your only duty right now, is to survive the arena. Do not let anything being whispered in the dark distract you from what is right in front of your face.”
“But Isadora, if he is framing you—”
“I know my conscience is clean, so I fear nothing,” she states, giving me a tight smile. “Focus on your match. Focus on surviving. Remember that I’m betting half a bag of denarii on you, so don’t let my wager go to waste because if it does I won’t hesitate to summon you from the land of the dead. And I promise to work you to the bones till you repay every coin I lost on you.”
Without another word, she turns on her heel and glides down the corridor, the gammas falling into step behind her.
I am left standing in the dim light, my tongue heavy and useless in my mouth.
I swallow the bitter taste of frustration, turning toward the Pegasus. I head to the chambers which leads to the cage of the colosseum. I have no idea who my opponent is, but I know I must survive this.
I arrive just as the announcer is calling my name. “... Olivia, the Fae!”
The crowd cheers as the gates grind open. I step out into the colosseum, gripping my broken staff tightly. Across the arena stands my opponent — a massive, tall man, but I do not miss the tiredness in his eyes. I missed his introduction though, but I can tell he is a werewolf.
He snarls, his canine teeth bared as he beats his chest, the crowd exploding into cheers at his display of raw power.
I take a deep breath, settling into my stance.
“Any last words?” The announcer asks as he looks between us.
The man coughs, shaking his head. I simply shake mine too as I take a few steps back and take a fighting stance, holding the broken pieces of my staff as nunchucks.
I risk a quick look at the dignitaries box and notice King Sven isn’t there, neither is Maggi. It’s my first match they’ve missed.
“GRAHHHHH!”The werewolf charges at me instantly, snapping me back to the fight.
He kicks up clouds of dust as he shifts in the air, clothes torn to shreds.
He howls and the crowd goes crazy. He brings out his claws and attempts to reach me, but I evade him with little effort.
He moves with speed, but to my absolute surprise, his movements look a bit sluggish. Especially since he is fully shifted into a wolf. Slow. It is as if the air around him has turned to sludge.
I don’t even think. Driven by pure instinct, I step inside his guard, pivoting smoothly on my healed ankles. I raise my broken staff, channeling my strength to it before swinging the staff in a single strike and hitting him squarely at the back of his fur.
Crack!
The sound of bones shattering bones echoes through the entire Colosseum. The sheer, explosive force of the single strike sends the werewolf to the ground.
Everywhere falls into an absolute, suffocating silence.
The cheers die instantly.
I stand in the center of the ring, my breath hitching as I look down at my broken staff, then at the werewolf, gradually shifting back into a man, on the sand. He isn’t moving, nor breathing.
What?
One strike. It took just one single swipe to completely end him.