Page 76 of Orange Tundra
And yet...
Something was wrong with his approach. Too cautious. Too calculating. A fighter with his reputation should have launched into immediate attack, confident in his superiority. Instead, he studied me like he was memorizing my weaknesses rather than preparing to exploit them.
"Nervous, Scarface?" I taunted, testing his reactions. "The great champion afraid of one half-dead Silver Beast?"
His eyes flicked to mine for just a moment, and I caught something unexpected there. Not bloodlust or sadistic anticipation. Regret? Conflict?
Then he moved.
The attack came without warning—a perfect feint followed by a devastating combination that should have ended the fightimmediately. Should have, if I'd been fighting like the crippled prisoner they expected.
Instead, I slipped the first strike, absorbed the second on my crystallized arm, and countered with a knee thrust that would have shattered normal ribs. Trill twisted away at the last second, the blow glancing off his hip instead of finding its target.
We separated, both breathing hard, and I saw genuine surprise in his eyes.
"You're holding back," I realized aloud. "Why?"
For answer, he came again—not the wild assault of a gladiator seeking quick victory, but the measured combat of someone testing an opponent's capabilities. I began to match his rhythm, Crystal growths limiting my mobility but not my technique.
We fought like dancers, each movement flowing into the next with deadly precision. His claws carved shallow furrows across my chest. My fangs found his shoulder, drawing blood but not striking deep enough to disable. The crowd's excitement grew as they realized they were witnessing genuine skill rather than simple slaughter.
"FINISH HIM!" Nialla screamed from the royal box, her arousal clearly frustrated by the lack of degradation. "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?"
But Trill didn't seem to hear her. He was focused entirely on our combat, his professional mask slipping to reveal something almost like... enjoyment? As if this was the first real fight he'd experienced in years of staging massacres.
I began to understand. Twenty-three victories against opponents chosen for weakness rather than skill. Prisoners and slaves forced into combat they couldn't win. This was the first time Trill had faced someone who could match his abilities.
The first time the contest was real.
We grappled in the center of the pit, strength against strength, technique against technique. His claws found purchase on my crystallized arm, trying to use the curse against me. I twisted, throwing him over my hip to slam against the arena floor. He rolled immediately, sweeping my legs and sending me sprawling.
"You're good," he admitted quietly as we circled again, both bleeding from multiple wounds. "Better than they said."
"They?" I pressed, sensing an opening in his psychological defenses.
"The intelligence reports. They said you were weak." His emerald eyes met mine directly. "They lied."
Before I could respond to that admission, something else caught my attention. A scent threading through the arena's reek of blood and sweat—sweet, familiar, achingly precious.
Brin.
I could smell her from anywhere. My head turned automatically, searching the crowd, and there she was. Standing between Nim and Sim in a gallery section I hadn't noticed before, looking beautiful as always.
She was here. In this place of horrors, watching me fight for my life. The sight of her—safe but vulnerable, glowing with health but surrounded by degenerates—sent my protective instincts into overdrive.
That moment of distraction cost me.
Trill's claws raked across the side of my skull, the impact sending me stumbling sideways as darkness clouded the edges of my vision. Blood streamed down my face, and the crystal growths across my temple flared with pain that made my knees buckle.
I hit the sand hard, consciousness wavering as the crowd erupted in celebration.
"THE SILVER BEAST IS DOWN!"
"FINISH HIM NOW!"
"CLAIM HIM! CLAIM HIM!"
Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Kilo's voice booming across the arena: "Victory to Scarface! Now let's see what the champion does with his prize!"
