They were only a few minutes into the Drah'Morr, and Malakai had already defeated eight opponents.
Of that eight, some of them had been Vorr'Takk, prodigies of their coven, but it made little to no difference. They had each been defeated the same way, one hit to the chin.
There were numerous ways to knock out a person. Yet, Malakai had chosen only one spot. At this point, it was as though he was doing it to mock them. They had heard the same eight identical bam, and eight thuds.
As Gor'Mekhai, it was humiliating. To see that their elites couldn't even exchange blows with an outsider, they didn't know what to feel.
For the eighth time, the guard gestured for the figure to be removed from the stage. He looked at Malakai and gulped.
The crowd was watching everything from a distance, he was right here. He had seen it all up close.
Most people were focused on the fact that their prodigies were losing, but he had gotten past that after the third fall.
Instead, he had focused on the person knocking out their best like they were nothing. Malakai.
It went without saying, after observing him, he couldn't get a read on the boy, if he could even call him that.
Throughout all eight fights, his expression had remained unchanged. The guard had seen Malakai move, but he hadn't understood it.
In every moment, Malakai moved before his opponent did. And it was only when the opponent reached him that the guard realized his movements had been to evade the attack. As though by routine, his fist would shoot up to strike the chin.
The first time had left the guard with a question. How the hell do you move to evade an attack that hasn't even been thrown yet? Could he see the future? The questions were endless.
At first, he had assumed it was some kind of sorcery, but then he had noticed something.
When the same thing repeated a second time, he had caught Malakai's gaze. That piercing pair was always locked directly on his opponent, observing. Then, as though he gained some premonition, he would move.
That was when the realization hit. It wasn't sorcery. No, he had predicted the opponent's moves.
A chill crawled down the guard's spine. To be able to predict movement before it was even made… it wasn't a power someone this young was supposed to possess.
He felt the stare of the coven head and moved to call the next opponent. But as his gaze flickered to the youth, his eyes couldn't help but glint.
'This round should be different,' he thought, and raised his arm.
As the guard called out, Malakai watched calmly as a figure stepped onto the stage.
'It's him.' He identified him instantly.
The youth had a slender frame like all stalkborn, and pale white skin dotted with countless marks. But this one was different from the others he had fought.
'His legs.' That was what caught Malakai's attention.
They weren't human. Hunched at the knees and brown like Luna's. They looked hard and firm, with rippling muscles gleaming like coiled steel.
Malakai had no doubt what they were built for. 'Speed.'
"Look, it's Drogan," a voice echoed from the crowd, and finally, the disbelief that had settled began to fade as people turned their focus to the new contender. Whispers spread quickly across the audience.
"He's right. It is Drogan."
"Finally! He's finally fighting!"
The crowd grew animated, their hopes reigniting. Drogan was also a Vorr'Takk, but he was considered an elite among elites.
Of all the contenders gathered to face Malakai, he was the strongest.
They were facts Malakai had suspected from the beginning when he first saw the lineup. This Drogan had been among the group of stalkborn hanging around the one he had marked as the most strongest of them all.
Now, as Drogan stood across from him, he said nothing. His cold expression and the killing intent leaking from his body were all that spoke for him.
'I should watch out for those legs,' Malakai thought as their eyes locked. The tension in the air spiked immediately. The crowd went silent without being told. Everyone watched quietly, waiting.
Would this be any different?
The guard's arm dropped, and for a brief moment, stillness settled over the stage.
To the watching crowd, this was the most important moment. The moment that would decide whether this would be any different from the others.
And just as the Gor'Mekhai crowd hoped, Drogan dipped. With his entire body coiling at the legs, he launched forward.
His movement was like a missile. One moment he was crouched, and in the next, he turned into a streak, appearing before Malakai like a blip, leg whipping out.
Malakai's body dipped low in an instant, and Drogan's foot screamed past where his head had just been, sending gusts that blew his hair back.
But before even a second could pass, Malakai caught a glimpse of Drogan's other leg hurtling toward his head from the right. He twisted to the side, barely evading the kick by mere inches.
He was about to regain his balance when another leg shot toward him. His gaze narrowed.
Without wasting even a moment, Malakai dropped low again. The kick tore through the air above his face.
But another came for the side of his head in the next second. Malakai stomped down hard, propelling himself backwards and creating space between them.
He landed a few meters away, standing tall and staring calmly at the youth. But even before the dust had settled, the crowd erupted.
"Show that Ashskin his place!"
The arena came alive. Gone were the quiet, brooding stares, now, wild cheers and roaring chants shook the ground.
The Ashskin hadn't ended the fight in a single hit. Drogan had clashed with him. And more importantly, Malakai had been the one pushed back!
Their roars were deafening, many stomping their feet as they chanted Drogan's name again and again.
The elders breathed a collective sigh of relief. If Malakai had defeated all ten with a single strike, it would've been a devastating blow to their pride and their coven.
But Drogan had managed to hold his ground, no, push the Ashskin back. If this continued, he might even win.
"Looks like the Ashskin is finally at the end of his rope. Drogan will finish him off," one of the elders said, and several others nodded in agreement.
"Drogan should've been the first opponent. We would have spared ourselves this embarrassment," another added bitterly.