Page 71 of A Kiss From Death (Oath of Vengeance #1)

It dawns on me now exactly how we will be paired up for our duels right before the Empress speaks.

“Rankings one and four will compete against each other, leaving rankings two and three to face off. Being in the first spot ranking gives that competitor an advantage by getting to face off with our weakest.”

Cartwell curses under his breath next to me, and my heart sinks. Each round is to test us in different ways, but this round doesn’t seem as fair to some as others. I guess that’s the point of the rankings and public vote aspect of the game.

“This means Tank will be facing off against Cartwell, and Jade will be taking on Nyxi. Paired by gender, how funny.” She laughs to herself.

Jade sniggers next to me, acting like she has already won. I know she won’t be an easy competitor, but she’s smaller than me, so I have a slight advantage. I would much rather take her on than Tank, and I silently thank Theo for having my back.

“You are each allowed to pick one weapon of your choosing. Tank and Cartwell will go first, since Tank is our front runner.”

My eyes scan the racks of weapons available for us to choose from. My mind flicks back to the weird sword hidden beneath my floorboard, as if it’s calling my name. I shake it off and focus on what’s provided.

Standing back, I wait to see what Jade chooses so I can make my decision based on her weapon. She drags her fingers over each blade and spike until they settle on a spiked hammer small enough for her to swing around easily.

Sauntering up to the weapons, Jade’s shoulder bumps into mine as she passes me. Turning my head, I glare at her, and she just smiles back tauntingly.

“I hope you’re counting down the last minutes of your life, sweetie ,” she spits viciously.

“They won’t even be able to recognize you after I’m done with you, just like that little boy you got killed.

Poof , turned to dust.” She pretends to blow smoke from her hand, and it takes everything in me to hold myself back, gritting my teeth and denying her the satisfaction.

I know she’s just trying to mess with my head, and I won’t stoop to her level.

“Seems like everyone who struck an alliance with you is now dead , how fitting. You kill everything you touch, but you won’t be killing me today.

” She sticks her fingers out, counting them down.

“Hudson, Aeron, and sweet Rayah are all dead because of you ,” she seethes.

“Fear not, though. Today is your end, and they will all cheer me on when I claim your last pathetic breath.”

She mockingly pats my shoulder, then saunters away with a skip in her step and a gleam in her eyes.

Someone needs a snack.

Quickly, I reach up, plucking a simple dagger off the rack, my gut telling me to grab something simple and slip it into my boot.

It’s lightweight and easy to wield. I can use it like a small sword or throw it if necessary.

It’s short, so I’ll have to get close to Jade if I want to use it, which is a slight disadvantage, but it’s a much better choice than the awkward hammer she chose.

Lining back up, I notice Tank sporting no weapons as he slams his fists together, cracking his knuckles.

His bleached hair shines bright under the sun, and his baby blues shine even brighter with malice.

Next to him, Cartwell trembles subtly while white knuckling a long scythe almost as tall as him.

I don’t blame him for grabbing a massive, long weapon when he’s up against a human who could be classified as a giant.

“Ladies and gentlemen, who’s ready to see these competitors fight to the death?” the Empress bellows, throwing her arms out wide. The crowd’s screams are deafening, making me flinch.

“As a reminder, the game will not finish until one competitor is left standing. There is no tapping out or ties. Today will prove who amongst you are the strongest and most deserving to ascend to the final round of the Crucible!”

Swooping her arm, the Empress points towards a small circle drawn in the sand, directly in the center of the Bubble. “Tank, Cartwell, you’re up first. Please step into the ring with your chosen weapon.”

They both saunter forward, Tank looking excited and Cartwell looking sickly and petrified. Stepping into the tight circle, they turn to face each other.

“Up first, we have Tank from Sweat sector. His weapon of choice…” She trails off, not spotting any weapons in Tank’s grasp.

Tank lifts his fists, banging them down on his shirtless, tanned chest like an animal, making the Empress blink in shock.

“It appears Tank will be utilizing his fists for weapons. Points for confidence, I guess,” she mutters.

“He will be facing off against Cartwell from Enlightened Sector. His weapon of choice, Scythe.”

Turning, she whispers something to the Vanquisher who entered with Hade.

He nods and steps up next to her, his hand raised in front of him.

Red magic bursts from his hands, igniting the circle around my competitors until it bursts into flames.

The flames lick up out of the sand in the perfect shape of a circle around them, growing a few feet off the ground, high enough not to step over but not tall enough to block our view.

My heart races at the new added element.

There’s no escaping this fight. You either fight, or you cower and burn.

One way or another, only one person is stepping back out of that ring, and I’ll be damned if this is how fate finally captures my soul.

I’m too stubborn to die at the hands of an unworthy enemy.

Clearing her throat, the Empress says her final remarks.

“The only rule of this game is there are no rules. Nothing is off the table. Nothing is considered cheating or dirty fighting. Do what you must to win, and most importantly, give us a good show.” Smiling, she cups her hands, backing up to sit on her gaudy throne.

“Let the games begin,” she shouts, and all hell breaks loose.

Charging forward, Tank slams his body into Cartwell’s small frame, taking him by surprise.

They both slam into the wall of fire, but neither falls through, a magical barrier holding them in.

Flames lick up the back of Cartwell’s legs, making him scream out in agony as Tank holds his body against the fire with a wicked smile, thoroughly enjoying this.

Blowing his blue hair out of his chocolate eyes, Cartwell slams his scythe into Tank’s toes with a crunch. Tank sputters, loosening his grip on Cartwell, who takes the chance to duck under his arm and run to the other side of the small ring.

Screaming, Tank turns with fury burning in his eyes. I don’t see this going well for Cartwell, but maybe he can outsmart his way through this challenge.

Yelling a war cry, Cartwell charges forward, slashing his long scythe through the air with all his strength, aimed right at Tank’s giant chest. The blade whooshes , but Tank side steps at the last second, slamming his elbow into the wooden snath, deflecting its course.

Tank lets out an angry grunt when the blade slices his upper arm instead, creating a sizable gash and drawing a steady stream of blood.

Swiping his hand across the cut, he coats his hand in blood and rubs it between his palms, turning them both bright red.

He swipes two fingers across each of his cheeks, marking himself in war paint.

Coated in his own blood with a promise of death on his face, he looks terrifying .

Defiantly, Cartwell lifts his scythe above his head, readying himself for a killing blow. He looks like he’s expelling every bad thing that’s ever happened to him and channeling it into this one, lifesaving blow.

Before he can swipe down with his blade, Tank’s long arm whips out, gripping him tightly around his neck. Cartwell’s once pale face instantly goes red, coughing for a sliver of air. Tank swings him around like a doll, slamming him into the wall of fire next to them .

Cartwell’s body flings around like he has no bones, rattling him so hard, the scythe is knocked out of his grasp. His eyes go wide with realization.

The one thing giving him a chance of walking out of this alive is gone.

Cartwell thrashes in Tank’s grip, but it only fuels him more. Clawing wildly, Cartwell attempts to pry Tank’s giant hand from his throat, but Tank presses Cartwell further into the fire, making him scream in pain.

Bile rises in the back of my throat when the smell of burning flesh hits my nose. I gag, attempting to keep my breakfast down while watching the life snuff out of my competitor’s eyes. Reality settles deep in his bones as he comes to terms with his outcome.

There’s no way out of his life ending.

Blood drips from Tank’s arms from deep gouges Catwell makes with his nails.

Reaching back, Tank slams his fist into Cartwell’s face with a loud crunch with an explosion of blood.

Throwing him to the sand, Tank pounces on top of Cartwell, straddling his chest and holding him tightly between his large thighs.

Like a rabid animal, Tank’s fists fly through the air, pummeling into Cartwell’s face in a fury of lethal punches. Each punch makes his face a little less recognizable as blood coats his fists, his knuckles gliding across Cartwell’s slick face with each jab.

Cartwell’s body has long since stopped moving, but Tank continues his pursuit until one last, sickening crunch rings out, and Cartwell’s skull finally fractures, caving his face into a flatten pile of bones and gore in the sand.

A silent sob escapes my throat at the same time as Jade hollers excitedly next to me, like this is all some fun game and not one human taking a life.

And just like that, it’s over.

That painful realization has my reality sitting heavily in my chest .

Now, it’s my turn.

“TANK! TANK! TANK! TANK!” the crowd chants in time to the beat of my racing heart. I’m sickened by their lack of compassion and humanity for this poor, lost soul.