Chapter 3 The Death Pit Game

CALYRA VEYNE

Calyra was pushed forward to walk faster out of the nine courts' throne room by the delta guards, wearing a very flimsy piece of clothing whilst she was being led harshly towards the opening arena where thousands of wolves cheered so loudly and savagely.

The death battle pit was situated deep in the middle of the arena, and where she stood in front of the Nine Alpha Courts, Therion stood up and raised his hands at the crowd, and their leering and cheering grew louder and deeper.

Calyra's eyes were red with pain, trauma and tear stains; she stood looking down the pit, anticipating something not less scary than what the Alphas did to her in the throne room.

Therion smirked with satisfaction seeing Calyra so broken before him, the cursed wench that dared to speak about Varos? A Varos loyalist and a cursed flame?

Calyra was everything Therion detested, and he detested even more that a cursed flame who had only lived for a measly eighteen years was now threatening him with an Alpha King he'd spent over a century taming.

Why was it so hard for them to forget Varos and accept him as their Alpha King already? He had ruled for so long while Varos remained weak-a broken beast beneath him-yet he never got the satisfaction he deserved.

There were still wretched loyalists out there, clinging to that fallen wolf. And this wench, Calyra Veyne, was one of them. He would teach her several lessons.

"High King."

Therion turned to his lower right, where Alpha Padain called, watching him with a sharp gaze.

"Every battle over the years, and still no beast or rogue has been able to kill Varos," Padain said.

"I know, Alpha Padain. But with every death match he's fought, he's come out weaker... gentled, even if he always survives," Therion replied.

"And you really think today will be any different? He'll win again. And all it'll do is remind the people that he's still the unrepelled Alpha King Beast of the century-just like he's always been."

"What are you getting at, Padain?" Therion snapped and continued. "The people already know he's a beast. He'll prove it again in this game, like he always does."

Padain countered almost immediately, his tone sharper now.

"But you sure have heard what the Null Binders said? Lately, they haven't been able to track his mind or his strength."

He took a step closer, his voice low but deeply concerned.

"You know damn well those Null Binders are your greatest weapon in subduing Varos. If the elite faction bound by blood pacts, tasked with subduing Alphas, controlling minds and poisoning sanity, could not keep track of Varos anymore, what hope do we have then?"

Padain paused, letting the weight of his words settle down on Therion, and Padain sat on his seat and focused on the arena.

Therion's hand clenched tightly on his throne arm. His gaze fell on Calyra, who was right in front of him, broken and battered. He growled, "Let the game begin!"

Calyra watched down the pit as two giant rogue contestants were called out; they were ripped and muscled, too roguish and cruel-looking,

Calyra shuddered in fear as the redhead rogue looked at her lustfully and thrust his long tongue between his index and middle fingers. Calyra stepped backwards with a repulsed expression, and this perverse behaviour made her wonder why she was standing here in the first place.

She had thought these two huge contestants were going to fight against each other, but her jaw dropped when the other giant gate creaked open and the entire arena went silent, totally silenced.

From the dark tunnel gate came out a beast. Calyra gasped at the stature of this godly-looking male; his long black hair with streaks of silver ash stuck to his sweaty skin, and his gold-ringed black eyes glowed red with a flaring rage.

He was a beast, yes! A 6'7" built like a warforged gladiator is a beast, with claws, gashes, untreated deep wounds, and multiple fatal scars from multiple fights on his skin, but he was undoubtedly the most handsome, ruthless male Calyra had ever seen.

His neck collared in rune-branded chains and his lower face masked with an iron muzzle further showed how dangerous he was; his aura alone made the crowds shudder from his slow prowling gait.

Calyra turned to look at Therion; she could swear she saw hatred, jealousy and threat, which he immediately masked with a casual wicked smirk. Calyra saw that even Therion was affected by this man.

Calyra's heart thudded fast with a tinge of a foreign weird sweetness when the beast's gaze fell upon her; it was cold, too inscrutable and expressionless. Calyra immediately carried away her gaze; she wouldn't want anything to do with this beast, and why was she made to stand here anyway?

Calyra turned back to look at Therion and yelled at his face.

"I won't stay here and watch this barbarity where males fight each other to death for the entertainment of you weak Alphas' twisted and sick gratification!"

Therion smirked with mockery and rather faced the rogue wolves who are fighting against Varos.

"If any one of you defeats the Beast Varos, you will have Calyra Veyne of the Tidecliffs as your mount for the night and your personal sex slave." Therion announced, and the thousands in the crowd yelled, going crazy as they chanted the rogue's name.

Calyra's heart dropped. She had been bound with two dangerous fates; she'd either be thrown in the beast Varos' dungeon or be taken to be mounted by any of these two perverted rogues. Now, whoever wins this battle doesn't matter to her; she was their prize.

Therion felt confident today. Varos seemed too weak; he had fought ten wolves in his cell before this battle, and he had sustained too many injuries, enough to kill him, but he didn't die. It is certain these two rogue beasts, who had never been defeated in a fight, will claw him in and out, and the existence of Varos will forever be forgotten.

The battle began, and the two rogues shifted into huge, formidable beasts as they pounced on Varos, who still remained in his human form.

The first rogue, black-furred with a jagged scar across his snout, launched at Varos from the right. The second, lean and silver-eyed, circled behind him with his teeth bared.

The first impact came hard. The black wolf slammed into Varos' side, knocking him off his feet. Dust burst up as they tumbled, and the crowd roared louder; Varos still didn't fight back. Calyra felt her knees go weak.

"Fucking shift!! They will kill you." Calyra didn't know why she yelled for him; she was shocked that she had involuntarily rooted for Varos, who was going to feast on her if he won. Why would she do that?

The silver rogue sank his teeth into Varos' leg, tearing flesh with a wet rip. Varos let out a low growl but didn't move. Didn't even try.

He didn't shift. He didn't scream. He just endured.

Therion laughed from his throne. "Rip the bastard apart!" Until a low rumble vibrated through the arena floor. It was Varos.

He clamped his massive hand around the Black rogue's head and crunched, and his bone gave way. A shriek of pain echoed, cut off mid-howl as the rogue's skull shattered like glass.

And blood sprayed. The silver rogue tried to leap away, but it was too late.

Varos lunged with a sudden blur of muscle and madness and slammed the other wolf to the ground with a snarl so guttural it silenced the whole arena for a heartbeat.

Then he tore into him. His ribs split like branches, flesh stripped from bone. The silver wolf screamed and kicked, eyes wide with terror as Varos disembowelled him, guts spilling into the dirt like steaming ropes.

The crowd didn't cheer anymore.

They watched in stunned silence as Varos, drenched in blood, staggered to his feet and looked up at Therion-eyes still burning red like a beast.

Calyra was too stunned, too frozen to the spot, at this male's strength and monstrosity.

Therion looked angry. "Then I guess Calyra Veyne belongs to you to feast on, then! Once again, The Beast Varos is too unsafe for our people, the madness too twisted, too dangerous; he will remain a prisoner forever until a suitable champion will be able to put him at rest."

Therion announced and Calyra's face was etched with shock. What does Therion mean by madness? A man faced with death, being ripped apart by morbid wolves, fought and defended himself, and Therion is calling it madness?

A madness they curated and construed? A madness they made happen?

"You dirty liar! That man right there is not mad! Let the man go!" Calyra yelled at Therion, but the Delta guards dragged her away, preventing her from attacking Therion.