The Last Dragon Hunter - Chapter 8 BAPTISM OF FIRE

At the end of a vast hall, a man with a silver beard sat on a golden throne. Purple banners draped on four walls surrounded him while knights with a crossed hammer and anvil symbol on their shields guarded the entrance.

Holding a goblet filled to the brim with wine, the king drank merrily. Naked women crowded on the steps beneath him. They held a bunch of grapes as supple and sweet as their bosoms.

Suddenly, an elongated, black portal appeared out of nowhere in front of the king. A man with a missing arm came out of it.

“Curses! Don’t you know how to knock, Stark?” the king said. The surrounding women gasped as blood spattered on the red carpet.

Stark fell on his knees, barely supported by his sword. Palm-shaped bruises filled the holes of his black armor. “We have underestimated, Soden! King Merck, you must stop your attack lest you want your army dead by dusk. It’s all a trap!”

“Call the healers!” King Merck stood from his throne and strolled towards Stark. “Who did this to you?”

“One of my fellow Reapers who suspected that I’m a spy. I barely escaped her!”

King Merck stopped. “You told me you’re the strongest among the twelve Reapers. How did this happen?”

“Igur Ramshackle helped her. He’s the bane of our plans we’ve failed to consider—the right hand of King Egbert working in the shadows! The unknown thirteenth member of the Reapers!”

…

“King Egbert, how are you feeling today?” Mister Piorquee said. He stood beside the throne where a burly man with a brown beard sat. Together, they watched the tournament from the topmost part of the western tower.

King Egbert smiled. “Better than before.” His ashen face betrayed his answer.

Mister Piorquee nodded. “Did you have any news about Lady Leva?” he whispered.

“Not yet. But I’ve confirmed that Stark is the mole. Although he might not be the only one.”

“My scouts have returned too. An army from Belsar is camping in a forest south of our wall. They’ll strike any minute soon.”

“Hm. Will five Reapers be enough to stop these traitors?”

“More than enough. How about their ambassador and remaining representative for the tournament?”

“Let them be. I’d like to enjoy a little show.”

…

“You’re up!” one of the ten knights said. “Come and meet your maker.”

Valfern stood up and hoisted his tattered leather sack to his shoulder.

“I heard that Doug has the power of a beast. Before the knights subdued him, he punctured the innards of five of them with his bare hands,” a knight said. “Are you sure you will survive with that sack and dagger out there?”

“I’ve got all that I need,” Valfern said.

The knights led him to a series of descending steps until they arrived on a metallic lift. Sixteen men labored to turn a giant wheel. A hidden gate then opened, followed by the bright light and noise of the crowd.

An inclined stoned bridge from the base of the Southern tower connected itself to the platform.

“At least survive even for a second, Valfern.” The knights laughed.

Valfern exhaled a deep breath before heading out to the stage. Doug already stood at the center, waiting for him.

The crowd booed. “Death to both of you, monsters! Burn until no ashes are left!”

“For our second match, a monster guilty of brutal murders and a thief who stole the Kingdom’s treasure will fight against each other. Who do you think will win?” Imogen said.

Before the gong clanged, Doug charged. “I wonder what your taste will be like after you’re burned?”

“Come,” Valfern said. He took out the grappling hook from his sack and whirled its claw.

Doug rushed like a beast, using his hands as feet. He zigzagged his way towards Valfern, evading the hook used as a whip.

“Too slow! Die!” Doug said.

The claw of Valfern’s hook missed its target by an inch. Doug then gripped the rope and pulled.

Valfern tightened his hold, and they tugged at each other, but he was losing in terms of strength.

“Come! Let me have a taste of you!” Doug maniacally grinned. He suddenly let go of his grip, causing Valfern to lose his balance.

Doug pounced like a wolf about to devour its prey.

Valfern rolled to the side, but Doug’s reflexes were beyond his expectations.

With inhuman strength and claw-like nails, Doug slashed at Valfern.

Valfern raised his dagger to defend himself, but Doug ripped it off from his hand.

“What the hell are you doing with this petty dagger?” Doug tossed it to the edge of the platform. “Give me a good fight! Fist for a fist!”

Valfern kicked Doug’s ankle, but the latter only smiled at him.

“You call that a kick? Pussy!” Doug said. “This is how you do it!”

Valfern shot off from the platform like a cannonball, heading straight to the flames.

The crowd gasped.

“And our winner is-”

But blue flames roared from where Valfern landed and then shot up into the sky in the shape of a dragon’s head.