Arising Fate

IV

*Edited*

Valen spit a mouthful of blood onto the ground, grinning wickedly. His black blood coated his teeth, spilling from his mouth, making him look like an animal moving in for the kill. He stood solidly at one end of the circular arena. His chest was bare, heaving, copper skin gleaming with sweat and livid gore under the flaming torches that illuminated the fighting pit.

He could taste the fear, the feral hum of anticipation and pleasure that filled the air as the demons hovered around the ring, waiting for the kill, waiting for the battle to be finished.

They all wanted him dead.

He was a half breed after all, the scum of this forbidden realm. A beast whose blood was tainted with impurity. Rather than tough rubbery skin, his flesh was soft; human. Unlike his brethren, strong powerful wings never grew from his back. It prevented him from surging towards the sky, from tasting the wind like the rest of his brethren, from participating in air assaults. His mind was weak, filled with emotion instead of a cold dead hunger for vengeance.

Yet, his eyes were as black as night. Long, sharp talons grew and extended past his fingertips at will, sharper than any mortal blade. Powerful enough to slice through hide and tendon to reach bone. Long retractable canines extended past his lips, glistening with poison as he bared his teeth at his opponent. Scales, gleaming silver, scaled their way across his chest, up his neck, vanishing beneath his braided auburn hair. As for the emotions, denial and repression seemed to work best. He believed he was one of them and so the savagery came easy.

An outsider among his kind, and yet he wasn't.

Valen let the blood leak from his mouth, let its blackness taint his chest. He didn't care enough to wipe it away. If anything, he wanted them all to see its colour, to acknowledge his ferociousness, his likeness, before he dismembered the demon in front of him.

This fight was a test after all. A challenge to see who was worthy to join the Dark Lord's army. To become apart of a battle that would lead them out of this realm towards salvation. Valen had stopped caring about salvation centuries ago. But the chance to gain power, a position and a name for himself within the ranks of these inbreeds, was too good of an opportunity to give up.

His opponent whirled, hurling two daggers towards Valen's heart. The creature he faced, Thoron, was a thoroughbred demon. He had been allowed to bring weapons into this horrendous pit of piss, sweat and death to face the 'halfling' as they liked to call him.

Valen let a malicious smile warp his face. As if the demon metal would help.

He ran towards the spinning blades, knocking them aside easily with a swipe of his talons, plunging headlong into the beast. Thoron never saw him coming. Ruthlessly, he swiped his claws upwards, leaving deep ridges in the demon's face, freeing one of the creature's eyes front its socket. The dismemberment caused a flood of black blood to pour from the open wound, Valen retreating just outside of the creature's grasp.

The demon let out a monstrous howl, its livid anger resonating throughout the arena. Valen's smile broadened. It lashed out wildly, lunging towards Valen. But the execution was sloppy, discombobulating, a waste of Valen's talent. They were looking for soldiers who could lead an army under the Dark Lord and yet they let this pound of flesh tryout?

Valen scoffed. He easily dodged Thoron's pursuit, letting the creature blindly stumble past him. Valen slipped around the wailing pound of muscle, coming up behind the creature before tearing into its throat with his teeth.

Warm, bitter blood filled his mouth. Valen didn't care. He bit down harder, shaking his head violently for show, his canines ripping through Thoron's thick skin before flinging the demon's head to the edge of the ring. It was the fear, the cowardice that clung to Valen's tongue, that spewed from Thoron's body, that made him want to gage.

The body dropped, falling lifeless to the ground.

The crowd went silent.

Dead. He was dead.

Valen wiped a talon across his chin, tasting the demon's blood for everyone to watch. He would achieve his goals – he would gain that title he longed for. If he had to slaughter his way through hordes of flesh in order to gain that prestige for himself he would, without a second though. Thoron had been his third kill.

There was no coming back in this world. Once you died, your body would shatter into ash, adding to the piles of dust and filth that coated the grounds. Valen hated relying on the hope of salvation. He had never known salvation. Why waste one's strength on a fictitious belief. Yet, a part of him needed to get out of this ruthless world – to see what lay beyond. This was his opportunity.

Slowly, Valen grinned outright, the expression feral and revolting. Raising his hands to the air in victory, claws gleaming black in the dim light, Valen beckoned the demon's forward. Then he let out a bellow that drowned out the angered murmurings of the crowd.

"Who's next?"