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“You’ll get him next time, sport,” Noah said under his breath as the defeated warrior was carried off. Already, the gas had dissipated in the open air, fading into nothingness above the crowds.

“On the contrary, it is exactly what we need to silence the remaining naysayers. A bloodthirsty fiend already rampaged through Colbrand and killed the previous king. Where that fool failed to stop the threat, Galvin will succeed, with the whole city there to witness it. Those gripped by fear will flock to him, begging him for protection, while those who lose their loved ones to the Profane will enlist to get their revenge.”

Harnessing all of his strength and gambling his life, Roc slammed Ingram square in the face with the stump of his missing arm. It was far from a graceful punch, more like a clumsy jab, but Ingram, so focused on everything else and having never expected such an attack in a thousand years, was utterly discombobulated by the hit, and inadvertently released Roc. Roc pulled away and escaped to the sky, with Ingram having just enough time to slow his descent and avoid a fatal impact. He still hit the ground with bone-breaking force, but he was alive. Roc landed beside him, staring at his vanquished opponent, with the crowd still trying to process what had happened. Until now, Roc had never acknowledged them, but now, he raised his missing arm, as though holding up an invisible fist in triumph, and the spectators erupted into cheers.