Chapter 149: Pleading for Mercy

I ran, enhancements flooding my legs as I sprinted across the sand, leaping and twisting between the attacks, the blackbane shifting between forms—daggers to cut through tendrils that got too close, my spear to vault over clusters of them, my shield to deflect strikes I couldn’t avoid.

And gods above, the crowd was screaming, not cheering, not applauding, screaming—a tidal roar that rolled through the arena like a beast waking from its slumber. Torches guttered from the force of it, the black marble practically humming under the weight of their cries.

I needed to slip past her guard somehow, get in close, get under those thrashing limbs and strike where it mattered most.

I could see Elvina panting now—she was tiring, burning through too much magic far too quickly, and that gave me an idea.

“Okay, Loona,” I muttered under my breath, ducking under another whip of her tendrils. “Time to do something catastrophically bad for your continued existence.”

In that instant, I let myself stumble backward, my feet catching on the uneven sand in what looked to be pure exhaustion. As I fell, I let one of my daggers slip from my grip, the weapon tumbling behind me and disappearing into the sand with a soft whisper of displaced grains.

Of course, I didn’t let it dissolve back into the floor the way the weapon wanted to—no, I kept its form anchored, solid and physical beneath the surface, exactly where I needed it.

The motion was small, insignificant, lost in the chaos of shadow tendrils erupting around me like a forest of grasping hands.

I saw Elvina’s eyes track my body but not the weapon—she was too focused on the kill, too eager to finally land a decisive blow.

As I went down, my foot dragged across the sand in what looked like a desperate attempt to catch myself, but in reality I was burying the dagger deeper, hiding it beneath the thin layer of golden grain.

And then the tendrils were on me, wrapping around my torso and limbs with crushing force that drove the air from my lungs.

They yanked me upward with violent speed, my body whipping through the air like a ragdoll as the crowd gasped in collective horror.

The world spun in nauseating circles as the tendrils whipped me around, building momentum. I caught flashing glimpses of the crowd—faces frozen in shock, mouths open, hands raised—before the shadows released me all at once, sending me hurtling toward the arena wall like a stone from a catapult.

I hit the marble with a sound like thunder, the impact driving through my spine and ribs with a brutal force that made stars explode across my vision. The wall cracked behind me, buckling under the violence of my collision.

Blood filled my mouth before I coughed it up in a spray of crimson that spattered across the sand below.

My body sagged against the wall as my legs threatened to give out entirely. The pain was real—gods, it was real—but I’d taken worse before.

Elvina let the tendrils dissipate with a breathless laugh that echoed across the sudden hush of the arena. I could see her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath, sweat plastering her hair to her forehead.

She began stalking toward me with slow, deliberate steps, her hips swaying in an exaggerated motion that would have been seductive if not for the manic gleam in her eyes.

“Not so clever now, are you?” she called out, her voice carrying a sing-song quality that made my skin crawl.

I let my second dagger fall from my grip, the weapon clattering against the sand at my feet in what looked like total defeat. She laughed again, the sound high and unhinged, and I could see her shadow beginning to coil around her legs like a living thing, preparing for the final strike, the killing blow that would cement her victory in front of hundreds of screaming spectators.

I pushed myself off the wall with a groan that was only half-feigned, my hand coming up to wipe blood from my chin.

Just then, I pushed my enhanced energy to sink down into my palm, letting it pool there, heavy and dense, exactly the way Iskanda had taught me before the match.

Elvina’s face flashed with confusion, her steps faltering as she registered the shift in my posture, the way my hand was positioned. I saw her eyes narrow with suspicion that came a heartbeat too late.

I extended my palm toward her, reaching for that connection, that invisible thread between me and the weapon I’d dropped earlier. I felt the blackbane respond with eager hunger, felt it recognize my call from where it lay buried in the sand behind her.

And then, without warning—

The dagger came shooting out of the ground like a missile, arcing through the air with a sharp, ripping whistle.

Elvina’s head whipped around just in time to see it streaking toward her face. She threw herself sideways in a desperate dodge, but she wasn’t quite fast enough—the blade caught her cheek and carved a deep gash from her ear to the corner of her mouth, blood spraying in a crimson arc that painted the sand beneath her.

Her scream was more fury than pain, and she spun back to face me, but I was already on her, the blackbane materializing in my hands as a spear.

I closed the distance between us in three explosive strides that left craters in the sand before jabbing straight for her skull with all the force I could muster, the spear tip whistling through the air.

She twisted away at the last possible second, the weapon passing so close to her temple that it sheared through several more strands of her hair.

We fell into a rhythm then, a deadly dance that carried us back toward the center of the arena. Elvina came at me with shadow-wreathed fists, her movements sharp and precise as I met her blow for blow, weaving, ducking, and flipping around her attacks while my weapon reshaped itself in rapid succession.

We flipped around each other like acrobats, our bodies moving in complex patterns that blurred the line between combat and performance.

I played every trick I knew—dropping both daggers and summoning them again as I spun around her, using my spear to jab in quick succession before letting it reform as another weapon to keep her constantly guessing.

Elvina was just about to unleash another wave of tendrils in a wide sweep when I launched myself backward in a soaring flip, the world smearing into streaks of sand and light as my body rolled weightlessly over the chaos below.

At the apex—right where gravity paused to admire me—I snapped my arms forward, sending both daggers screaming through the air, the weapons spinning end over end like twin comets aimed straight for her heart.

Elvina dodged with a desperate lunge, her body contorting to avoid the blades, and that single moment of distraction was all I needed.

I landed in a crouch before exploding forward, my legs burning with enhanced power, closing the distance in the span of a heartbeat.

I came in low, ducking beneath her guard before she could recover, and spun, ignoring the fire spreading through my side, ignoring the blood soaking into my clothes. I caught her with an uppercut to the jaw that lifted her off her feet and sent her crashing back into the sand.

The crowd was deafening now, a wall of sound that pressed against my eardrums and made my skull ring. I could hear individual voices rising above the chaos now—Brutus roaring encouragement, Iskanda’s sharp commands I couldn’t quite parse, Tora’s panicked squeaking from the viewing platform.

Elvina tried to push herself up, her movements sluggish, disoriented. I saw tears streaming down her face, cutting tracks through the sweat and blood, her expression crumpling into something desperate and broken.

“Wait—mercy—I beg of you!” She gasped as she finally stood, one hand raised in a gesture that might have been surrender, might have been pleading. “Please—I—”

I didn’t wait.

I was on her in an instant. My fist connected with her cheek, sharp and brutal, snapping her head to the side.

Another strike, this one to her ribs. I felt something crack under the impact. She tried to curl into herself, tried to protect her face with her arms, but I grabbed her wrist and wrenched it aside, my other fist driving into her stomach with enough force to lift her slightly off the sand.

The tears were coming faster now, mixing with blood and spit, her voice breaking into sobs as she tried to speak, tried to beg, but the words dissolved into incoherent sounds that meant nothing to me, that couldn’t penetrate the red haze that had settled over my vision.

Another punch. Another. And another. Each one landing with a wet, meaty sound that should have made me sick but instead felt like justice, like retribution for Mia, like liberation for every life she’d ruined with her cruelty and her family’s twisted legacy.

And gods, she kept trying—she really did.

I could see the shadows twitching at her heels, the faint shimmer of her mist beginning to gather around her ribs each time her eyes flashed with desperation. She was trying to melt back into the shadows, to dissolve into that smoky escape hatch of hers and slither out of range.

But before she could trigger even a spark of magic?

I hit her again.

Each time she tried to fade—crack.

Each time her form flickered—thud.

Each time her breath hitched in that telltale way her spellwork required—smack, right across the jaw, sending her magic sputtering like a candle dunked underwater.

The crowd’s noise peaked and then started to fade into something quieter, more uncertain, as though they weren’t sure what they were watching anymore, whether this was still entertainment or something darker, something that crossed lines they hadn’t known existed.

My knuckles were slick with blood—hers, mine, I didn’t know and didn’t care. My breath came in ragged gasps that burned my throat, my side screaming with every movement, but I couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, not until—

Elvina collapsed.

Her body went limp, folding in on itself like a puppet with its strings cut. She crumpled forward onto her knees, her head lolling, her arms hanging uselessly at her sides.

Blood dripped from her nose, her mouth, her split eyebrow, pooling in the sand beneath her in dark, spreading stains. Her eyes were half-closed, unfocused, staring at nothing, and the only sound she made was a soft, broken whimper that barely qualified as noise.

I stood over her, chest heaving, fists clenched, every muscle in my body trembling with exhaustion, adrenaline, and something else I couldn’t name. The arena was silent now, utterly silent, every eye fixed on us, on the broken girl kneeling in the sand and the bloodied figure standing above her.

My side throbbed with each heartbeat, my vision swimming slightly, but I forced myself to stay upright, forced myself not to collapse, because I needed them to see this, needed them to know that I’d won.

Elvina swayed once, twice, and then toppled forward, her face hitting the sand with a soft, decisive thud—the echo of her defeat resting heavy in the hush of the arena.

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