Page 39 of Scoring the Orc

Apparently, Jurto has been pushing his zyrphix team to the absolute limit in preparation for this match. And today’s the day where I’ll find out if it was all worth it or not.

In my mind, all kinds of scenarios play out. I envision Jurto raising the match trophy at the very end, relishing in the roars and cheers from the crowd as his teammates hoist him up above their heads.

But I also see Jurto sprawled across the dry, cracked ground while his teammates suffer injuries all around him. My heart cracks at the image, even though I know it’s all in my head.

Suddenly, strong knocks come at my bedroom door.

I'm frozen for a moment as the door swings open. Jurto stands there, his massive frame filling the doorway, eyes burning with a fierce intensity that sends a shudder through me. Without a word, he steps inside, closes the door behind him with a soft click, and pulls me close. His strong arms envelope me, and before I can catch my breath, his lips find mine in a kiss so intense it feels like the world stops spinning.

His kiss is desperate, filled with all the emotions that this brutal game of zyrphix stirs in us both. As he finally pulls away, his eyes lock onto mine, fierce and unyielding. "Even if we lose," he declares, voice rough with emotion, "I will never surrender you to Gargash. I'd rather die first." His words hang heavy in the air, a solemn vow spoken with such grave sincerity that it roots me to the spot.

I search his face, tracing the lines of strain around his eyes, the set of his jaw tensed with determination. In this quiet moment, the depth of his feelings for me is unmistakably clear, laid bare in a way that Jurto usually guards fiercely. My heart swells at the sight, love and admiration mingling with a torrent of doubts that still nag at me.

Can we really survive this? What if Gargash's challenge proves too much? The questions whirl in my mind, but looking into Jurto's eyes, finding the unwavering resolve there, a fierce protective streak that I've come to rely on, steadies me. It's in this gaze that I see not just the fearsome warrior everyone else fears, but the man who has slowly, unexpectedly, claimed my heart.

Despite the turmoil that surrounds us, a warm, undeniable assurance fills me. Here, in the circle of Jurto's arms, I find a strange peace. Yes, the future is uncertain, and yes, the dangers are real. But in this moment, buoyed by Jurto's vow, I feel a fierce determination rise within me as well.

"We'll face whatever comes together," I whisper back, voice steady despite the chaos of my emotions. "I believe in you, and in us."

Jurto's expression softens, a rare, vulnerable smile touching his lips as he leans down to kiss me once more, a promise without words that no matter the outcome, we are in this together.

Grabbing my hand, he leads me out of my bedroom and we make our way to the carriage that awaits us outside his home. He’s already loaded up his gear for the game.

Once inside the carriage, it starts moving towards the arena where the zyrphix match awaits. As we pass through Tlouz into the urban centers, my fists clench to hear, even in the distance, the roar of the excited crowd that awaits the match.

As we make our way to the stadium, the weight of the upcoming match presses heavily on me. Each step we take seems to echo with the gravity of what's at stake. My stomach twists into knots, a tangible reminder of the uncertainty that lies ahead. Once again, my fate hangs on the outcome of a zyrphix match, a brutal game I've come to both fear and respect.

Jurto's hand finds mine, his grip firm and reassuring. I glance up at him, seeing the familiar set of his jaw, the determined glint in his eyes. He's ready to fight, to defend what has become precious to him—us. I squeeze his hand, drawing a small measure of comfort from his presence.

The pathways leading to the stadium are bustling, filled with fans and vendors alike. The air crackles with anticipation, the crowd's energy palpable, almost electric. I can hear the distant cheers, the sounds of drums and horns and excited screams. It's a festival, a celebration of strength and skill, yet for me, it feels like a march toward an uncertain verdict.

As we enter the stadium, the roar of the crowd swells, engulfing us. The vast arena is a sea of spectators, a mosaic of faces, all turned towards the central field where dreams and nightmares will unfold. The scent of sweat and soil fills the air, mixing with the sharp tang of anticipation.

Jurto leads me to a secluded spot near the athletes’ tunnels where I can watch, slightly removed from the chaos of the crowd. He looks down at me, his expression softening for a moment. "No matter what happens out there, know that I'm fighting for us," he murmurs, before turning to join his team.

I nod, words caught in my throat. Watching him walk away, broad shoulders set and ready for a vicious match ahead, I feel a mix of pride and terror. The orc who was once my captor, who tormented me in ways that both challenged and changed me, is now the one I cannot imagine life without. The thought of being torn from Jurto, of losing this fierce, complicated love that has blossomed in the darkest of circumstances, fills me with a dread so intense it's almost paralyzing.

As I stand in the shadowed enclave Jurto led me to, my gaze sweeps across the arena, absorbing the pulsating energy that saturates the air. The vibrations of stomping feet reverberate through the ground, melding with the cacophony of shouts and chants from the frenzied crowd. Flags of vibrant hues flutter above, each representing different zyrphix teams, their colors a stark contrast against the dull gray of the sky above.

In this electrifying atmosphere, my thoughts swirl back to Jurto and the tumultuous path our relationship has taken. It's strange to think how much has changed since I was first brought to him as a prize. Initially, every day was a battle, not just against him but against the resentful tide of emotions within me. Yet, over time, those sharp edges have worn down, smoothed by countless interactions laden with reluctant care and shared challenges.

I remember the first time I saw a glimpse of something more in Jurto—beyond the harsh exterior, there was a moment of genuine concern, so brief yet so stark, it had startled me.

In the beginning, he didn’t treat me very well. That wasn’t surprising, given his temperament. He’s an orc, with an innate desire to dominate the world around him.

And I never thought that our relationship could evolve into what it is now. It has turned into something beautiful.

Now, as I watch the teams warming up on the field, their movements sharp and calculated, the reality of how deeply my life is intertwined with Jurto's sinks in. Our relationship, though born from conflict and survival, has morphed into something profoundly binding. I realize, no matter the outcome of today's game, my feelings for him won't waver. This isn't just about survival anymore; it's about not wanting to imagine a future without him by my side.

I can’t lose him.

Around me, the crowd's anticipation builds. The air is thick with the scent of popcorn and spilled ale, the usual fare for spectators coming to feast not just on food but on the spectacle of the match. Orc children climb on their parents' shoulders, eager not to miss a single moment, their faces painted with team colors, eyes wide with excitement.

Drums beat in a rhythm that seems to sync with my own heartbeat, faster and louder as the start of the match approaches. The energy in the stadium is a living, breathing entity, almost tangible, like electricity crackling through the very air we breathe. It's exhilarating and terrifying, a reminder of what's at stake today, not just for Jurto but for both of us.

In this sea of noise and emotion, I stand, somewhat apart, yet completely immersed in the world of zyrphix.

The din of the crowd swells as the announcer's voice booms over the speakers, calling out the names of the teams—Bloodcrushers and Stonebreakers. Each mention ignites a roar from different sections of the stands, a wave of sound that crashes over the arena like a stormy sea.

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