No one would have guessed that this kind of match would beco so intense.
The sleek black unicorn dashed across the sky, as fast as lightning, chasing after shadows like they were leaves blown by a gust. Its hooves and tail turned into misty smoke, leaving behind a billowing trail of dust.
Above the battleground, thick mists and swirling clouds ford. The orca’s and the unicorn’s eyes shone brightly, their large shapes appearing and vanishing within the dense fog.
Huge erald waves rose with the cry of the whale, so powerful and wild, making it feel like the sky might fall. From below, it looked as if these roaring waves were hanging above, giving people the feeling of being subrged deep in the ocean.
Several alphas couldn’t handle the heavy pressure given off by the two battling psychic incarnations, so they turned away, leaving the venue early.
The red shimr from Ren’s blade clashed with Rakan’s tallic arm. The cutting-edge tal alloy was deeply marked by the crimson sword. The blade grinding against the tal made a teeth-gritting sound. It was stuck so deep that even pulling it out wasn’t simple.
In that instant, Ren and Rakan were so close they could see the fire in each other’s eyes, a reflection of their intense battle.
Rakan’s machine-like arm blasted apart from the wrist. The bony tal hand, propelled by the explosion’s force, lunged for Ren’s forehead. His plan was to make Ren let go of his sword by giving up his own arm.
But Ren stood his ground. Holding onto his sword stuck in the tal, he swung a powerful kick to Rakan’s torso. As a result, the flying tal punch hit him, flinging him and his sword to the ground.
Rakan, after getting a direct hit to his chest, staggered backward a few paces, struggling to get back up.
They looked at each other, spit out blood, and painstakingly tried to rise.
Rakan’s robotic arm was a wreck, with sparks bursting from its fractured end. Ren, with blood streaming down, coloring half his face, seed unbothered. Behind the mask of blood, his eyes sparkled a deep purple, with a hint of thrill in his grin.
"I’m not going to give up," Rakan thought. "I have to give all in, even if it ans risking everything."
Rakan rembered what Ren had cockily thrown at him earlier: "Ever seen her on the battlefield? I have." The statent, dripping in pride, was like a thorn in Rakan’s side.
It felt like ages since Rakan had escaped that toxic polluted zone.
Afterwards, he got dressed, get a new arm, went back to his familiar ho base, and continued living as if everything was normal. On the outside, he seed like the sa old trusted royal guard, but deep down, he was stuck in a ntal trap he couldn’t escape.
Each night, it felt like he was back in that tight cage, positioned in a humiliating way, forced to eat like a tad chicken, going through so much pain. He wished to forget those haunting mories, but they snuck into his dreams every night. Even when he was awake, those dark monts continued to play in his mind.
Hellfire raged constantly inside Rakan’s psychic landscape, tearing at his very soul. The flas seed to want to burn him alive, change him completely, and make a mutant out of him. He wasn’t sure who he could share this pain with, but he felt a need to do sothing about it.
What he craved was the heat of battle, a chance to fight these wicked monsters, a distraction from the endless haunting mories.
Then there was Kestrel, who needed a strong partner to go with her to the Eyehole. The news made Rakan’s heart race.
The day Kestrel ca to the farm and freed him from that cage, he promised himself he would make it up to her.
Knowing the dangers of the Eyehole, Rakan felt he should risk everything to keep her safe—even if it ant giving his life for hers.
With determination, Rakan stood up, ripping off his broken chanical arm and tossing it aside. From his belt, he drew his own weapon—a pitch-black longsword.
"Think you’re the only one who can protect her?" Rakan shouted.
"We’ll see about that," snapped Ren.
Their blades collided in a flurry. Both alphas, wounded but relentless, kept up their fierce pace, swords clashing like a wild storm. Every swing was deadly, every move loaded with intent. They were both in it till the end.
"Are they seriously going all out? What’s their deal?"
"They’re ready to risk it all."
"Soone needs to back down. This is madness."
"Why isn’t Commander Luther stopping this?"
"He always follows the Queen’s orders."
The audience murmured amongst themselves.
Close to Brandon, one of his allies whispered, using hushed tones and quick hand signs, "This Ren guy, he’s pretty good. Do we trust him?"
Brandon adjusted his glasses, "He could be an asset. But keep an eye on him. Make sure ’that one’ doesn’t approach him."
He glanced up to the high platform where his boss and friend, the head of the Royal Guard, Luther, stood. Luther, with his strong stature and a notable scar, embodied military might. Kestrel, beside him, seed to want the duel stopped, but Luther appeared unmoved.
"The Queen’s directive is to find the best alpha for you. It will be done," Luther responded calmly.
Luther and Brandon had known each other since they were kids, having each other’s backs as they moved up from the tough borderlands.
Brandon had mories of a younger Luther, who had once had a strong distaste for the shady dealings at the top of the Tower. In quiet monts, Luther used to express his anger about it.
"It shouldn’t be like this," a younger Luther once told his closest friend, passion in his eyes, "One day... believe , one day, I’ll topple this entire tower."
The man who once was passionate had changed, and not for the better. After a few etings with the Queen at the top of the tower, he wasn’t the sa. It was as if his passion and emotions were locked away, replaced by a cold, chanical obedience to the Queen.
All of Luther’s old beliefs and values seed to be lost in the past. Now, he was ready to do everything the Queen asked, even if it ant doing the things he used to hate. He was under the Queen’s spell, completely.
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