Page 1 of Warlord's Plaything

1

HIRA

The sand reeks of sweat, blood, and old death.

It clings to my skin, to the open cuts along my ribs, to the filth matted into my hair. The roar of the crowd—howling, drunk, starved for violence—thickens the air like smoke, pressing against my skull until it’s a living thing. A fucking beast of its own, hungry to see me bleed.

I tighten my grip on the twin daggers in my hands. My fingers are slick with sweat, but my stance is steady.

Across the arena, the Direfang prowls.

Seven feet of muscle and bone plated in iron-like scales, the beast moves with the slow, deliberate grace of a predator that knows it has already won. Its glowing yellow eyes burn through the gloom, trained on me like a promise. The chain around its throat rattles as the handlers release it, snapping like a fucking gunshot.

The crowd goes feral.

A voice booms from above, amplified by dark elf magic."Tonight, we see if the human whore lives another day, or if the sands finally swallow her."

My jaw locks. The filthy nobles in their shaded balconies drink their honeyed wine and whisper about my body, about how I move, about how ahuman bitchshouldn’t have lasted this long. I see their sneering smiles. I feel their eyes crawling over my bare skin.

Let them look. Let them fucking underestimate me.

The Direfang lunges.

I react on instinct, flipping backward just as its claws rake the space where I was standing. My heart kicks against my ribs. The sheer speed of the thing—I barely had time to dodge.

I land, roll, spring back up.

It comes again.

This time, I pivot just as its gaping maw snaps shut where my throat had been. I slam a dagger between its ribs, twisting deep.

Itscreams.

The wound isn’t deep enough. The scales are too thick.

I curse and dodge again, narrowly avoiding its massive tail whipping toward me. The force alone could shatter bones.

Above, the crowd is on its feet, shrieking. Betting slips exchange hands at rapid speed. The nobles want a show. They want me torn apart in high fucking definition, spread across the sands like a slaughtered pig.

I’m not going to give it to them.

The Direfang charges.

This time, I don’t move. I let it close the distance—just enough, just to the last possible second—then Idrop.

The massive beast overshoots, stumbling forward, giving me the one shot I need.

Ilaunch myself up, driving my daggerstraight through its eye.

The scream rips through the air, louder than the crowd, louder than anything. Blood explodes from the wound, blackand boiling, drenching me as I tear the blade free and drive the second one into its exposed throat.

It chokes. Gargles.

Crashes into the sand.

Dead.

For a second, nothing happens.

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