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Roc was narrowly holding his own, but he realized the battle couldn’t be decided on the ground. He pulled away from Ingram and flapped his wings, taking to the sky with his nemesis chasing after him. They flew laps around the arena, colliding and exchanging blows in midair. The audience raised their eyes and fingers to the sky, watching the airborne battle in shock and awe. Both feathers and blood were shed with each collision, with talons ripping through flesh and punches landing with devastating force. Over and over, it seemed like they would crash into the stands, but by some miracle, they stayed in the air. Higher, they rose, taking their battle above the arena. The tournament no longer mattered, only the battle, and there were no edges in the sky.

“If the coward hasn’t shown up, he’s surrendered his place in the tournament!” Viktor argued.“He has a point, Sir Noah. We can’t wait all day for every combatant.”“You don’t have to wait all day. Count to 300; if I haven’t found him by then, you can declare the match. The people deserve that much.”“Very well, I’ll give him a chance.”

He gave the man a hard poke in the chest while smoke wafted from the cigarette between his fingers, then leaned in with bloodlust radiating from every word hissed with his icy voice. “Notice that I haven’t asked your name yet, even though I gave you mine? It’s because you don’t have a name to me. To me, you’re just ‘Bitch’, the sniveling little Bitch who decided to come in here and ruin my evening, talking awfully big game for someone in skull-fucking range. That’s what’ll be engraved on your tombstone: ‘Here lies Bitch. Cause of death: got skull-fucked until his brains leaked out of his ears.’ Shit, I’ll carve the engraving myself. Now I suggest you get the fuck out before I use your eye sockets like a whore’s ass!”