Indra's Heart

THIRTY-THREE

I'm not mentally present as the next cadet attempts to fight her way through The Elite. Chief Johnson has released me, but I'm still frozen in disbelief. The Whitaker family just watched their loved one get murdered from somewhere in the crowd, a woman has lost her mate, and the pack, a valuable warrior to be. My friend is gone.

And for what? An ego boost? Jaxon could have tossed him over the ropes a lot sooner. He was going to win either way. This was purely evil. Totally senseless. After all, they were both native to Airoclaw. We are all essentially training to fight for the same cause, which is to defeat the loyals in the impending war. So what good comes from killing your own? I knew that official matches could result in death, but I didn't think that anyone here would be heartless enough to do it.

The next handful of rounds go by in a blur. While two cadets manage to advance to Number Five, only one makes it to Luke Sumpter, just to be thrown out of the arena with little resistance. It was fear that held him back, not his capabilities.

"Next up, we have a rather interesting case. Born and raised in the human world, he was given an elf-eye by Her Zenith Sryx and sent here to train in Saph Raven. Cadet number three, show us what you have got."

My legs carry me forward before my mind is able to catch up. I ignore the cameras pointed at my face, shaking my wrists to loosen my joints. Tyce steps into the arena for the twenty-eighth time today with a fat lip, and a puffy cheek.

He lunges as soon as the flag is waved, but I dodge the attack and grab his neck, slamming him onto the mat with everything in me. Stars dance around his head and he struggles to regain his footing, so I take advantage of his disorientation and push him over the ropes. Tyce is talented for sure, but there's only so much one can take. The claps are feeble when the referee raises my arm. Minimum love for the newcomer.

I've observed Callum enough to know that he uses an avoidant fighting style. We both rock back and forth, waiting for the other to strike first. He finally gives in, throwing a fist in my direction that I narrowly escape. I tackle him and lift his slim frame over my shoulders, preparing to attempt the same move from the last match, but he isn't going down that easily. Callum twists my neck and I grit my teeth at the influx of pain, but I do not release him. I spin as fast as I can, inching all the way to the edge and toss him out of bounds.

Ferryn is in the arena now, and I'm not fooled by her small size like most. She zooms closer and I move around, making sure not to turn my back. I grab her by the throat, and the taste of metal creeps into my mouth when her knuckles cut my lip. I tighten my hold anyway, knowing that if I let her go now that I'll lose. Just as her eyes roll to the back of her head, I throw her over the ropes, and she lands on her knees in a coughing fit. My third victory feel strange. I've never put my hands on a woman before.

De'von cooly waltzes onto the floor, too enamored with the adoring screams surrounding us to notice my fist flying towards his stomach. He doubles over with a grunt and it only takes three knees to his face for him to fall on his ass. Roaring with anger, he scrambles up and charges with his eyes barely open. A single kick to the jaw has him stumbling backwards into an involuntary flip over the rails. For the member known for his intellect, he made a stupid mistake: underestimating anyone during a fight.

"And just like that, Cadet Stone has made it to the halfway mark. Maybe the elves know something that we do not." Darren laughs and the crowd cheers with a little more enthusiasm, their opinions changing right before my eyes.

Luke looks me up and down as he gets into position and I mimic his actions. He rapidly strikes with his foot and I hiss as pain shoots through my nose. He attempts to kick me again, but this time I'm much more vigilant, grabbing his ankle midway and throwing off his balance. Once he's down, I kick him in his chest, keeping hold of his leg to prolong his immobility. Another blow to his stomach has his eyes bulging as the wind is knocked out of his lungs, and a third swing of my foot draws crimson red liquid from his mouth.