Chapter 44: Chapter 44: FIRST BLOOD 4
Merek stood alone at the barrier gate in mid lane. His spear was raised. His shoulder was still bleeding from Dominic’s earlier strike. The wound was shallow but persistent, a line of red that dripped down his arm. Finn was respawning. Soren was still in the respawn chamber, unable to move. Amelia had fallen. Nyssa had fallen. His whole team was gone.
He was the only thing standing between Team Three and the core.
Dominic approached the gate. Kellan flanked left, through the pillars, his short blade ready. Wobbly was on Dominic’s shoulder, the pink bow perfectly centered, its body calm and still. Through the bond, Dominic could feel Florence’s approval, a warm crackle of satisfaction. Theresa’s presence was steady beneath it.
Merek watched them come. His scarred face was unreadable. His spear tip never wavered.
"You fought well," Merek said. His voice was tired. "Your whole team did. We underestimated you."
Dominic stopped at the edge of the gate. "You’re not going to surrender."
"No." Merek shifted his grip on the spear. "I’m not."
They clashed. Merek fought like a man who knew he was going to lose and had made peace with it. His spear was everywhere, a blur of thrusts and sweeps that pushed Dominic back, forced him to work. He scored once. A glancing hit to Dominic’s arm that drew blood. The crowd gasped.
Dominic didn’t flinch. He stepped inside the spear’s reach, caught the haft with his free hand, and drove his sword through Merek’s guard. The blade punched through armor and flesh, a clean, final blow that would have ended any real fight. Merek’s eyes went wide. Light bled through the wound, brilliant and white.
"Kane eliminates Merek! The barrier gate is open!"
In the moment before he faded, Merek’s voice came through, quiet and rough. "Good luck, Kane."
***
Team Three converged on the enemy base. All five of them, bloodied but standing. Lysandra with her smile still lingering at the corners of her mouth, the last traces of the switch still burning in her eyes. Dominic with his sword in hand, his arm bleeding from Merek’s final strike. Greer with his axe on his shoulder, his body a map of cuts and burns, his hands steady. Seira with her healing glow still active, moving from fighter to fighter, closing wounds. Kellan breathing hard but alive, his short blade still in his hand.
The core crystal pulsed in its cradle, a brilliant blue gem the size of a man’s chest. It was undefended. Team Five’s remaining fighters were still respawning, their timers ticking down in the corner of the holographic display.
Lysandra’s club came down first. A crack spiderwebbed across the crystal’s surface. The sound rang through the arena like a bell.
Dominic’s sword followed. Another crack. Light bled through, brilliant and white.
Greer’s axe finished it. The crystal shattered with a sound like breaking glass, and light flooded the arena, washing out the holographic map, the scrying screens, everything. For one blinding moment, the world was pure gold.
Then the light faded. The core was gone. The barrier gates were down. The control points were dark.
"Team Three wins! 100 to 20! The rejects take their first match!"
***
The crowd erupted. The raw, surprised roar of eighty thousand people who’d just watched an upset. The east side was on its feet. The public galleries were shaking. Someone in the noble boxes was on their feet too, and it wasn’t a Harwick.
Dorian Hale’s voice cut through the noise, barely controlled. "Team Three takes their first match! Dominic, Lysandra, Greer, Seira, and Kellan — the team that everyone wrote off! They won every lane! They never lost a control point! The dark horse is still running!"
In the competitors’ gallery, Victor watched. His easy smile was gone. Baines stood beside him, silent.
Pembroke watched from the opposite gallery expressionless.
***
In the respawn chamber, Team Five sat in the cold stone quiet. The noise of the arena was distant here, muffled by layers of rock and magic.
Soren was in the corner, his back against the wall, his hands pressed to his temples. His whole body was still shaking. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the smile. Every time he breathed, he heard the wet thud. He was A-rank. And a blonde girl with a club had broken something in him that he didn’t know how to fix.
Nyssa was pacing. Her boots slapped against the stone in a sharp, angry rhythm. Her hands were balled into fists. Her jaw was tight enough to crack teeth. "A lapdog," she spat. "We lost to a lapdog. And he just—" She stopped pacing. Her voice dropped. "He picked me up by the throat. One hand. Like I was nothing."
"Because you got careless." Amelia was sitting on the bench, her back straight, her hands folded in her lap. Her voice was cold. "You let your mouth run and you forgot about the healer. You let him bait you into overextending. You lost because you were too busy trying to hurt him to fight properly."
Nyssa spun on her. "And what about you? You had the power advantage. You had the terrain. You let him distract you and plant an axe in your chest. Don’t talk to me about careless."
"I wouldn’t be getting an axe planted in my chest if you had properly defended —"
"Enough." Merek’s voice cut through the chamber. He was sitting on the bench near the door, his spear across his knees.
"It doesn’t matter who was careless," he said. "We lost. All of us. Top lane. Mid lane. Bottom lane. We had the experience. We had the power. And we lost."
Nyssa’s jaw tightened. She didn’t speak.
"Kane is not C-rank," Merek continued. "I don’t know what he is. But he’s not C-rank. And Li is... something else. Something I don’t have words for." He looked at Soren, still shaking in the corner. "You understand what I’m saying."
Soren didn’t answer. His hands were still pressed to his temples.
Amelia’s voice was quiet. "What do we do now?"
Merek was silent for a long moment. Then he stood. His spear clattered against the stone. "We focus on recovering," he said. "We’ve got three matches left. We can still turn this around. It also wouldn’t be a bad idea to watch Team Three and see how far they go. Might learn something."
Nyssa let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "That’s it? We just lick our wounds and cheer for the rejects?"
"No." Merek walked toward the door. "We get ready for the next fight. And we pay attention. Because whatever Kane and his team are doing, it’s working. if we face someone who fights like them, we’ll need to know how to beat it."
He walked out. The door closed behind him with a soft thud.
Nyssa stared at the empty doorway. Her hands were still fists. But she didn’t follow him.
Amelia stood, smoothed her robes, and walked out without a word.
Soren stayed in the corner, his hands pressed to his temples, the smile burning behind his eyes. He wasn’t thinking about the next match. He wasn’t thinking about recovery. He was still in the top lane, still watching the club come around, still hearing the wet thud.
***
Team Three gathered at their base. The victory light was still fading around them, the golden afterglow of the core’s destruction.
Kellan was bent over, hands on his knees, breathing hard. "We won," he said. His voice cracked on the last word. "We actually won."
"Told you," Dominic said. Wobbly burbled on his shoulder, a satisfied sound.
Lysandra leaned against the wall, her club resting beside her. The switch was fading now. The smile was gone. The shy girl was coming back, her shoulders curling inward, her eyes dropping to the floor. She looked at her hands. They were steady. They hadn’t been steady before the fight.
Greer sat on the stone, his axe across his knees. He was staring at his hands. They weren’t shaking. For the first time since the draw, they were completely still.
"One down," he said.
"Three to go," Dominic replied.
Greer looked up at him. "You really think we can make the finals?"
Dominic met his eyes. "I think we just proved we can."
Seira sat down beside Greer, her back against the wall. Her healing glow was dimmer now, her mana reserves running low. "That was terrifying," she said. "I thought Amelia was going to blow me into the heat pool."
"You did great," Greer said. "You blocked her. Twice."
"You’re welcome."
He didn’t say thank you. But his shoulder, just barely, brushed against hers as he shifted his weight.
Kellan straightened, still catching his breath. "So. Who’s hungry?"
Greer snorted. Seira laughed, a small, surprised sound. Lysandra didn’t laugh, but her shoulders relaxed, just slightly.
Dominic looked at his team, his mismatched, improbable, impossible team and felt something settle in his chest. "After the next match," he said. "We’ve got work to do."
The crystal displays flickered above them. The first match was complete. The next match was already being announced, Dorian Hale’s voice echoing across the arena. Team One versus Team Four. Pembroke and Cassidy Vance against Halden’s squad. The crowd was already buzzing, shifting in their seats, preparing for the next spectacle.
But for now, Team Three sat in the quiet of their base. The stone was cold beneath them. The light was soft. Outside, the arena roared. Inside, five people who’d been strangers an hour ago breathed together, alive, victorious.
