Woe

Chapter 7.

"I shall be your last opponent." Wennerm heard Belak announce, more like infrom him. "If you manage to win against me, I will give you your peace treaty. You can keep your part of Kiaal, and there will be no more attacks or antagonizing from Toje towards your kingdom." His lips curled into a frown, his expression closing off even more. "We shall never see each other and be done with it. You can lead the rest of your life as you may want and I will not bother you again. However, you will make sure that you cut off your military ties with that nefarious kingdom- Zarabera, was it?"

Wennerm's mouth felt dry. This was it.

"And what if I loose?"

Belak replied with nothing at first, staring down at him, before covering the distance between them in long strides until he was right up in Wennerm's personal space, he towered above him. Wennerm stood his ground, glaring up at him. Until Belak suddenly grabbed his long red hair in a fistfull and yanged his head back, forcing his face to upwards. And leaned down, so close that Wennerm could feel his breath on his neck, brushing his earlobe. He could also hear his heart drumming in his chest. 

"If you loose..." Belak started in a soft tone which betrayed the sheer danger in his voice. "I will take you back to my palace and fuck you into the mattress."

Wennerm's mind blanked for a moment, before the words actually hit him. He couldn't tell if he was blushing or fuming from sheer rage. He could feel something and it certainly wasn't aversion. 

He shoved Belak far enough from him. 

Belak's horse chortle rang throughout the arena. And then they pounced. Wennerm vivdly felt his fist connecting with Belak's ribs. The skin would definetly bruise under the force. Soon enough Belak's hand were encircling his waist as the mamoth of a guy literally picked him up and threw him.

Wennerm's mind blanked as his head collided with the ground. Groaning, he spat out the blood in his mouth, and jumped up, adrenaline coursing though his veins. He hardly felt the pain. But then he doubted that Belak did either. 

They were within punching distance again. And Wennerm landed one successfully on Belak's throat. The taller god chocked for a moment before something in his eyes blazed. He had his fingers wrapped around Wennerm's throat before the other could blink. 

So he had held back in their previous fight.

Wennerm wrapped his own arms around the thick corded arm squeezing his windpipe and used it as leverage to lift his lower body and deliver a poweful kick to Belak's chest. His grip loosened considerably.

"What's your obssession with kicking my chest." He spat out.

Wennerm couldn't reply. His throat was out of commision. After fighting two previous battles without magic or a break, he could feel each bone in his body hurt. He knew he was running on pure adrenaline. He threw a punch in response and another and another. They barely hit their targets. His movements were getting erratic. Perhaps he was too far gone in his anger. Or perhaps he was just exhausted.

He saw Belak's lips thin before twisting in a sneer. And once again, he moved so fast Wennerm barely saw him coming. He choked, his breath knocked out of him as he recived a strong hook to his gut. It was bound to leave a bruise. And Belak seemed relentless as he pounded another punch to his side, effectively fracturing a rib.

Wennerm felt immense pain, his lips opening to release a slight gasp. He barely managed to hold himself together under the immense onslaught of pain and exhaustion. 
He couldn't loose. No matter what. It would end things once and for all. He just couldn't let this chance slip by. He knew his people could hold on no longer. He wouldn't be able to hold any longer against Belak. He had to win. He had to.