Page 116 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
I eye the tray suspiciously. There’s no way I’m ingesting anything Danuk offers. I don’t trust him one bit. Slipping a powder into food or drink is child’s play...
“It’s safe, I promise,” Bekaa insists, taking a bite from my plate.
That proves nothing. I doubt Danuk would go as far as poisoning me—too complicated. But a light sedative? That’s a different story. And there’s no way I’ll risk losing focus or control. Not tonight.
"I’m not really hungry," I apologize.
Bekaa looks disappointed but leaves the room in silence.
I wait a long time in the room’s oppressive quiet. Eventually, I lie down on the luxurious bed and doze off despite myself.
I’m jolted awake later by two guards. My stomach growls. The tray is still there, untouched, but cold. Oh well. Not worth the risk.
“Follow us,” one barks.
They lead me to a wide balcony overlooking the arena. Danuk is already there, lounging on an elevated throne, surrounded by cronies. He gestures for me to sit beside him like it’s a social event.
I sit stiffly, fists clenched on my knees. My eyes instantly find the two men tied to the posts below. They look intact... for now.
“You’re going to love what I’ve planned for tonight!” Danuk grins.
“I doubt that very much,” I reply coldly.
He chuckles, clearly delighted. This whole performance amuses him.
He nibbles on sweets from a tray, then gestures for me to help myself. I turn away, ignoring him, even though I’m starving.
“I’m thrilled to meet the creator of Zebulon,” he says, golden eyes locking onto mine.
“I didn’t create anything. I simply extracted calming properties from a plant to ease pain in the wounded. That concoction was meant for medical use only.”
Danuk leans closer, a smug smile on his lips.
“You have no idea how popular your little formula is. Zebulon is now a hit: instant relaxation, gentle euphoria, dreamlike visions... A real gem. And even more potent since your arrival. Your father’s version was much more... basic.”
He shrugs, amused.
“You talk like an idealist. People want to forget, escape, feel something new. Zebulon gives them all that. You should be proud.”
“Proud? Proud that my modest work was twisted into something used to enslave people? Because that’s exactly what every drug does. No, Danuk. I’m not proud. I regret the day I ever offered that plant to the doctor who asked for it.”
“You’re no fun, after all. Just a narrow-minded little Human. I honestly don’t see what Noviosk or that other one find so special about you!” he spits, turning away, his gaze ice-cold.
“Master Danuk, everything’s ready!” announces a blue-furred man appearing behind him.
“Excellent. Let the show begin!”
A chill runs down my spine as the Srebat steps forward to the edge of the platform.
The stands fall immediately silent, despite being packed. It feels like there are even more spectators than yesterday.
“Friends, allies, clients!” Danuk booms, arms wide open. “Welcome to this special edition of the Red Arena games! Tonight, you’ll be placing bets on the finest fighters the region has to offer…”
A ripple of excitement spreads through the crowd.
Guards move forward to untie Noviosk and Ayden. Even from where I’m sitting, I can see them staggering.
Their posture is stiff, movements slow. They’re clearly exhausted after a full day tied up—muscles numb, nerves raw.
