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KREN
The inferiti were a powerful species that harnessed fire. The one in the pit with me now summoned whips made of molten white that he slammed against my flimsy shield.
I could barely keep my feet.
I was still reeling from the glacial who hurled spears of ice at me in the previous round. One was still embedded in my leg and stung like raw fire, turning it numb.
I was in round number five. The record, if I could defeat him.
Hold on, Ivy. I’m coming.
The inferiti spun his whip around my shield, hooked it like a giant finger, and tore it from my grip. Then his other whip lashed around my body and pinned my arms to my sides.
The fire burned through my clothes and scorched my skin.
I yelled in pain despite myself.
The inferiti pulled on the whip, drawing me closer to him, closer…
Until we were face to face.
“Flesh bubbles and squeaks when it’s near molten fire,” he said.
“Really?” I said through gritted teeth. “What does it do with ice?”
I raised my leg and yanked the bolt of ice from my thigh. It was caked in my blood.
The inferiti’s eyes bulged as he realized what was about to happen.
I spun to one side and slammed my pinned shoulder into the creature. The ice pierced his leg and he bellowed in pain. With his molten body in contact with mine, so did I.
He lost concentration and the molten whips faded out of existence.
I used the inferiti’s own molten power against him and formed a short spear of fire. A spear through any creature’s head was going to come out with the same result.
“Yield,” I said.
“I yield! I yield!”
The audience hissed and booed and cheered in equal measure. None were on my side.
I backed away from the creature. My next opponent would be a—
Thunk!
A hammer slammed into my back and knocked me to the floor.
The thrall stood over me with his huge hammer in his muscular hands. Attacking before the previous opponent had been dragged from the pit wasn’t against the rules—there were no rules—but it broke common etiquette.
The thrall had seen just about enough and intended on claiming my crown for himself.
He grinned, his long and crooked teeth, like bodkin needles, protruded from his top and bottom lips.
“Me champion,” he grunted.
He swung the hammer up over his head.
The record would stand at four.
