Page 96 of Immortal Throne

At once my magic clicked into place and I finished the match with a roundhouse kick, sending the man flying across the cage and into unconsciousness.

Realization smacked me in the head.

Why hadn’t I seen it before?

The reason I no longer felt sick.

The reason I was doing better than before in the ring.

I’d embraced my demon self, which took death off the table. At least in terms of my “disease.”

I laughed as two guards entered the cage and came to drag the guy away. I wasn’t done, not yet. Lifting my hands in the air brought another round of cheering from those who watched, and when a second man entered the cage to take the place of the first, I beat the crap out of him too. My muscles were loose and limber but far from exhausted.

Shaking out my arms, I bounced from foot to foot, craning my neck first to one side, then the other.

Ready. Waiting.

Prepared to kick some more ass.

I felt good.

And I also felt so empty.

What was the point? I threw the first punch at my new opponent. What was the point of having an endless life if I had to spend it alone? Just me and Chupey, forever.

I loved my familiar, of course, but an eternity alone with him and his farts…

I wanted more.

I wanted…

I bit back the emotions, shaking away the daunting feelings. I could break down later. Right now, I’d revel in knowing death no longer waited for me.

I hadn’t needed the throne to embrace my demon self. Maybe under normal circumstances I would’ve had to plunk my ass down on those royal cushions, but I’d negated the need to do so that moment during the Borca trial when I broke through whatever held my demon self separate.

The guy circling me in the cage squinted at me like I was insane. And maybe I was. I downed him with a punch-kick combo that sent him sprawling on his back.

One after another, I kicked the crap out of whoever thought to stand in front of me. Normally, when entering the cage, we weren’t allowed to do back-to-back fights. The organizers didn’t like to exhaust the winners.

But soon they stopped trying to get me out. I waved away each attempt to call me out of the cage until finally they ended their efforts and simply let me do my thing.

Greg, the bookie, looked positively gleeful.

Finally, a lull settled over the Underground. It seemed even the crowd had finally had enough of me.

“Come on,” I called out, waving my arms to get someone, anyone, to come forward. “Fight me. Fight me!”

Chest heaving, my breath caught, but I was nowhere near done. This was what I had left. An endless string of faces to pound and a reputation unmatched by anyone else.

For the longest time, no one came forward. The announcer droned on overhead, going over my stats for the day, and when I looked out at the crowd I saw something surprising.

Sympathy.

Well, greed and sympathy. A lot of people made a lot of money on me tonight, but others actually felt sorry for me.

Was that what I’d become?

I didn’t have a chance to go down that road because someone in a hooded sweatshirt stepped through the gate and into the cage, just as the announcer called out for my final opponent.

“Just so we’re clear.” He lifted his head, revealing fierce—yet familiar—green eyes. “I bet against you, princess.”

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