Chapter 40: Drawing lots
Isaac, once again Mordred in this cruel world, sat in his cold cell, his aching back pressed against the damp wall. Through the bars, he had a direct but limited view of the arena. From his dark, secluded spot, he watched with morbid attention as one fight followed another to the hysterical cheers of the dragon audience.
A new fighter soon appeared in the arena: a pale-skinned elf with long silver hair and a body marked by years of mistreatment. His long, delicate ears were stained with dried blood, a reminder of the torture he had endured. In his slender hands, he held two short, tapering daggers, perfect for quick, precise movements.
Facing him was an enormous winged reptile with thick, emerald-green scales. The creature hissed furiously, waving its membranous wings to intimidate its opponent. As soon as the fight was underway, the elf immediately sprang into motion, his bare feet barely seeming to graze the sand as he executed graceful, fluid dodges.
"Incredible..." murmured Mordred from his cell, fascinated by the agility and finesse of the elf’s movements.
But even elven agility was not without limits. The reptile suddenly spread its wings, creating a powerful gust of wind that momentarily destabilized the elf. Taking advantage of this imbalance, the monster launched a violent strike with its thick, razor-sharp tail.
The elf was thrown violently against a wall, but righted himself immediately, blood flowing profusely from a deep wound in his shoulder.
"Don’t stand still..." whispered Mordred uneasily, instinctively clenching his fists.
In response, the elf changed strategy: he launched into a series of rapid, repeated attacks, using his daggers like sharp fangs, inflicting a shower of light but multiple cuts on the monster’s sensitive joints. Gradually, the reptile was weakened by the accumulated pain, its thick, dark blood running slowly over the sand.
Finally, the elf jumped nimbly, dodging a fatal bite, to thrust his daggers directly into the reptile’s eyes. The monster screamed in pain, blinded, before collapsing with a deafening crash. Mordred nodded silently, impressed by the elf’s lethal finesse.
The audience roared its approval, but their satisfaction was short-lived.
A new fight was quickly announced by the announcer, his unhealthy enthusiasm clearly echoing in the arena: