Page 54 of Eternal Sacrifice
“Oh! OH!” Mor yelled, placing her palms on the table to raise herself up.
The air above us crackled, signaling that Harric was far from finished. As the Prince of Wrath, he could harness and channel his own rage to create powerful bursts of energy.
Springfield and his vines exploded off Harric, flying through the air. Springfield landed in a heap, and plant matter rained down atop him.
“Oh, no,” Mor groaned, sitting back in her chair.
Harric strode toward Springfield, his hand extended and ready to deliver another blast. Harric stopped a foot away from Springfield, and he lowered his arm. I could see the menacing grin on Harric’s face before he stepped back and raised his hand into the air to wave to the spectators.
A roar erupted from the stands, and the demons cheered for the returned Prince. He waved to them, turning to face each of the sides.
Springfield rolled onto his back, bruised and battered.
The timer on the scoreboard continued to tick down, and the other pairs continued to fight.
Springfield pushed himself up. Coming to stand on unsteady feet while Harric had his back turned to wave to the crowd.
“Time isn’t up yet,” Springfield called out to Harric before spitting a wad of blood into the sand.
The arena went silent, and Harric turned around slowly. “I’ve delt the most damage. You cannot win. And I am not supposed to kill you to prove my point.”
“Time isn’t up yet,” Springfield repeated. He brought a closed fist up to his face, opening his palm to reveal a pink flower nestled in the center. Springfield blew a gust of air against the delicate petals, sending a powder spray through the air.
Harric looked confused until he was struck by whatever the wind carried. Red splotches and boils started forming all over his face’s exposed skin. Within seconds, the skin began to swell, turning an angry red-purple. Harric swung his hands blindly through the air, sending blasts of power that missed their target.
My gaze flicked to the timer; the seconds ticked by, but it wasn’t going fast enough.
Harric reached into one of the runes on his neck, and the swelling on his face started to recede. As soon as one eye managed to crack open, he delivered a blow on target.
Springfield was pushed into the barrier of flames. A scream ripped through his lips while Hellfire singed his flesh.
The buzzer announcing the round was over was like a cry for mercy, and Harric allowed Springfield to fall to the ground. The arena fell silent while the scores from the previous round were tallied.
But all eyes were on Springfield.
He coughed, sending a spray of sand away from his mouth. He pushed against the ground to help him stand, despite the smoke rising from the worst burns.
The crowd erupted in applause, and Mor sighed in relief beside me.
Springfield extended his hand, offering it to Harric to shake. Another round of applause sounded when Harric accepted. Even though Springfield had lost the fight, he acted like a demon.
Springfield limped off the field, and the arena started to reset for the next round of fighters.
“That was intense,” Mor breathed. Her skin was flushed, and she reached forward to grab her cup from the table and take a large gulp.
The rest of the fighting rounds weren’t as exciting as the battle between Harric and Springfield. It became painfully apparent that Harric would be unbeatable. While it was amusing to watch his various displays of power, the predictability was underwhelming. When the scoreboard flashed that Harric was the winner and the recipient of the Invisibility spell, the demons flooded to the exits.
As the Kings of Hell, we went to the arena to congratulate the winner.
“Congratulations, Harric,” I said, leading the group into the middle of the sand-filled pit.
“Seems a lot has changed since I was last in Hell,” he responded while his eyes were busy taking in the crown on my head before sliding to the rest of the pack. “New faces as well.”
“Planning to stay long?” I asked, as his gaze seemed to settle on Mor.
“Not originally, but I’m starting to reconsider,” he answered, gazing at Mor.
“I’m his mate,” Mor said to Harric, pointing toward me. “And his,” she added, pointing to Jasper next. “His,” she said, pointing to Justice, and he bit at the air toward her finger. “And his as well,” she said, finishing with Jace.
