Page 8 of Hunted By the Dragon Alien

Sevas didn’t hesitate. While watching Gimloria, she darted down and snatched up the small device. It was crude—worn from use but sturdy enough, with a stretchy, stained band looped around two uneven prongs. Almost instantly, she spotted one of the palm-sized rocks that had been hurled earlier. Her fingers closed around it quickly, the rough surface digging into her skin as she moved with purpose.

“You think a toy will save you?” Gimloria sneered. Her tentacles swirled around her in a rhythmic, almost hypnotizing motion. Her confidence was palpable—a predator’s certainty.

But if there was one thing Sevas knew a lot about, it was rocks. The weight of them, the texture of them, the way they moved. She liked rocks more than most people, and holding thisone gave her a burst of confidence she deeply needed. With a practiced hand, she loaded the stone into the slingshot’s pad and pulled back as far as the band would stretch. Her muscles tensed as she aimed her shot. The world narrowed to a single point of focus and she released the rock.

It grazed the side of Gimloria’s head. The impact drove her back a step and tore off a tentacle, her smirk replaced by a flash of shock. The alien touched her head briefly, as though surprised she’d been struck at all. Her hand came away with blood. Then her lips curled into something far more feral. “You’ve got spirit, little one,” she snarled, tentacles twitching furiously. “Let’s see how long it lasts.”

Sevas didn’t have time to breathe before Gimloria lunged. Her blade flashed under the harsh arena lights. Sevas scrambled back, sliding in the loose sand. The alien’s weapon whistled past her shoulder, slicing close enough that Sevas could feel the rush of air it stirred. She wasn’t prepared for the speed—that blade had almost found its mark. Her chest tightened as panic chipped at her resolve, but there was no time to dwell on it. Gimloria was already stepping forward, preparing for another strike. This time, her opponent faked and shifted her stance. Sevas had dodged the blade, but took the direct impact of the female’s fist straight to her jaw.

Sevas fell backward, her vision blackening as she slid on her back. Pain exploded in her face. Her head swam. Part of her wanted to just stay down, to put an end to this, but she couldn’t lose her first match. Ulo needed her, andfekif she’d return to that cell and tell Takkian that she’d lost.

Her gaze moved to the ground. More rocks, discarded bones, jagged bits of debris—ammunition. Her teeth clenched as she bent low, scooping up a larger rock. She shoved it into the slingshot’s pad, pulled back and aimed for Gimloria’s center mass. The stone flew, cutting through the air with precision.

The impact struck true this time, slamming into Gimloria’s chest. The alien stumbled. Her long, whiplike tentacles momentarily fell limp from their wild, chaotic motions. A hiss, quick and angry, escaped her lips as she regained her footing. “You should’ve stayed down,” she spat, her voice low and venomous. The crowd roared its approval, feeding off the tension like vultures circling over fresh kill.

Gimloria surged forward again, and this time, her attack was faster, sloppier, fueled by anger rather than precision. Sevas barely sidestepped in time, feeling the blade graze the fabric of her shift, slicing it with a chilling hiss and scraping her skin. Had it been sharp, it would have cut her. This would leave a bruise. Her muscles screamed for her to move faster. Her instincts kicked into high gear as she ducked low and rolled to the side. The sand bit into her knees and palms.

She kept moving, relying on her speed and smaller size to stay out of Gimloria’s immediate reach. Sevas glanced up, her mind racing. She needed to turn this fight around—and quickly. Her gaze swept the arena floor again, desperate for anything she could use.

Then she spotted it—a jagged metal shard partially buried in the sand a few yards away. The edges were uneven and rusted, but it looked sharp enough to do some real damage. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. Summoning her courage, Sevas darted toward the shard. Her legs pumped hard against the shifting sand.

Gimloria’s snarl followed her, a guttural growl that sent a shiver down Sevas’ spine. “Running already?” the alien taunted. “Pathetic.”

Sevas didn’t respond. Her fingers closed around the metal shard. The rusted edges bit into her palm, but she barely noticed through the adrenaline surging in her veins. Gimloria’s movements were slightly more erratic now, her wrath turningwhat had been precise strikes into broader, more reckless swings. Her tentacles flared and coiled like serpents ready to strike, rippling with aggression.

Sevas tightened her grip on the shard, ignoring the faint sting where it cut into her skin. Blood smeared along the jagged edge, but it didn’t matter. She shifted her weight, knees bent, muscles coiled like springs. Every thought, every instinct narrowed to this moment.

Gimloria lunged again. Her blade arched as she aimed to hit Sevas in the chest. Sevas veered away, but the force of the swing was an audiblewhoosh. Without waiting for the alien to recover, she drove forward, slamming her shoulder into Gimloria’s midsection. The impact wasn’t enough to topple her opponent, but it sent Gimloria stumbling back a couple of steps, unbalanced.

The crowd erupted, their roars and hisses a chaotic storm of reactions—rage from Gimloria’s supporters and wild approval from those gambling on an underdog victory. Sand sprayed into the air as Sevas pushed her advantage. She surged forward, raising the shard and slashing toward Gimloria’s thigh. The makeshift blade tore through the soft leather armor and bit into flesh. Black blood sprayed across the white grains of sand. Gimloria howled—an awful, guttural sound that made bile crawl up Sevas’ throat.

Gimloria staggered. Her tentacles whipped wildly. One lashed out reflexively and struck Sevas across the face, sending her reeling sideways. The impact was cold and slimy, stinging her skin. She hit the sand hard. The breath knocked from her lungs, and the metal shard flew from her hand.

She pushed herself upright, wobbling slightly on unsteady legs. Her quick breath rasped as she tried to match Gimloria’s movements. Pain throbbed where each blow had struck. Bloodwas warm and sticky on her skin, but she shoved the pain aside. There was no time for it—not now.

Her fingers brushed over the slingshot at her side, clinging as if to an anchor. She needed to shift the tide, and she needed to do it now. “Come on,” Sevas muttered under her breath, scanning the arena floor for anything else she could use.

She finally spotted it—a rock, perfectly palm-sized, sitting just a few feet away. It had likely been hurled from the crowd earlier, smooth and solid enough to be effective. Her muscles screamed as she dove for it, kicking up a spray of sand. She clutched the rock tightly and scrambled back to her feet just as Gimloria surged forward.

Sevas loaded the new rock into the worn leather pocket. Her arms trembled, but her aim was steady as she pulled the sling back, the elastic groaning under the strain. Gimloria’s lips parted in a growl as she closed the distance, her tentacles flaring like a deadly halo around her.

Sevas had no time to think, no time to plan. Instinct took over. She released the slingshot’s pad with a snap, the rock whistling through the air. It struck Gimloria squarely between the eyes. The impact echoed faintly over the frenetic noise of the crowd. The alien’s head snapped back. Her tentacles writhed in wild, chaotic spasms as she stumbled and fell onto her knees.

The audience erupted into a chaotic mix of cheers, jeers, and bellows. Sevas barely registered the noise. Her entire body was still coiled tight, waiting for the next move. Gimloria’s blade fell to the sand. Her tentacles twitched less violently now. Their movements went sluggish and uncoordinated. Blood trickled down her forehead, a stark line of black against her blue-gray skin, dripping onto the sand below.

Sevas stayed rooted in place. Her breathing was ragged as she watched her opponent. This had to be a trick—no one went down that easily, not in a place like this. She tightened her gripon the slingshot. “Get up,” Sevas muttered under her breath. She narrowed her eyes as she waited for Gimloria to strike back. The alien groaned, swaying unsteadily where she kneeled, but didn’t rise.

From the stands came a riot of alien sounds—angry hisses, disappointed growls, and, from another corner, wild cheers for the underdog. A few spectators slammed their fists against the railings, demanding more blood, more action, but Sevas didn’t move. Her chest heaved as she fought to steady her breathing. The tang of blood from her cuts mingled with the acrid metallic stench in the air. Sand clung to her sweaty limbs, irritating her skin as she stood tall, unwilling to let the crowd or anyone else see the exhaustion creeping into her bones.

Gimloria’s head lifted slightly, her eyes unfocused but still fixed on Sevas. A flick of her tongue passed over her lips, tasting the blood smeared there. For a moment, she looked as if she might rise, but her tentacles sagged in defeat.

The booming voice of the announcer echoed through the arena, silencing the crowd for a brief second. “New fighter 78-S… Victory!”

The noise erupted again, this time louder and more chaotic as factions of the audience reacted to the announcement. Coins and small metal tokens rained down into the arena, thrown by those who had bet on her and won. Others hurled threats and insults in alien tongues, furious that the newcomer had upset their expectations. Sevas didn’t care. Their noise barely registered. All she could do was focus on keeping her legs steady beneath her. Her chest rose and fell with each labored breath. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Gimloria shifted. Her tentacles curled weakly against her chest as she coughed. “Don’t be,” the alien rasped. “You fought well…won the match.”

Theworstgame in the history of games. Sevas simply watched as a mech rolled out from one of the gates. It ignored Sevas entirely, focusing instead on Gimloria’s crumpled figure. A shock baton extended from one of its appendages, sparking faintly as it jabbed the alien in the side, prompting a yelp from Gimloria.

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