alex ahad

After Cain’s fight, the seventh match proceeded without a hitch, and as always, Seraph stepped into the ring for the final battle of the round. Though his earlier wins had been desperate and narrow, the prince’s arrival brought a chorus of cheers from the audience. One might expect this noisy support to bolster his confidence and turn him back to how he was, but he remained humble, or perhaps ‘fearful’ would be a better word. Every win would plague him with doubts, doubts that he was really strong enough to have defeated his opponents. All of his accomplishments were surely due to plain luck, or maybe his enemies had been paid off to let him win.

His wings were aching and threatening to snap, but he forced himself to his feet and returned to the sky. He took after Ingram, once again attacking him from behind. The two of them crashed atop the edge of the arena, overlooking the crowds. It was little more than a cement lip encircling the arena, offering some protection from the sun and the weather. The two got to their feet, both bruised and exhausted, with the spectators cheering as they spotted the combatants overhead.

“Hey Mrs. B., what’s up? Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”“Oh Jim, it’s a beautiful day and I wanted to be outside. I wandered over to see what you did after school.”“Just running like the wind, don’t ya know? Keeps me off the streets.”