††† Ryden †††

Ryden adjusted the leather straps on the stump of his former patient. Three long, sharp claws were fixed to the cut-off wrist of the feline assassin.

Over the past two days, Siegfried gained a lot of proficiency with his bone-shaping skills. He had outfitted several of Kaz’ comrades with spikes, claws and fangs that could have very well belonged to some of the larger predators in the forest. Sieg insisted on coating them all with enamel for sharpness and durability, but that alone wouldn’t attract much attention.

The shapeshifting warrior was an enigma. No matter what he took up, his body and mind adjusted and learned at a frightening speed that could have nothing to do with his recent evolution. And while it fascinated Ryden, it also left him sleepless at night.

Without Ryden’s knowledge, it would likely take Siegfried decades to fully develop his immense potential.

What if he helped to create a monster that would someday drown them all in blood?

He still believed that Siegfried was a good man at heart. But the traumatised warrior was emotionally instable at best and a catastrophe waiting to happen at worst.

Ryden only knew what little information Haylee had divulged. The sight of the mutilated woman in the dungeon had triggered a memory of Siegfried’s childhood— some unspeakable tragedy resulting in the loss of his sister.

Although it was relatable, it didn’t change the fact that Siegfried was dangerous. Ryden had seen the exact moment when all other emotion drained from the warrior’s face, and only cold fury remained. It still sent chills down his spine whenever he thought of the look in Siegfried’s eyes. His instinctual fear at that time had been justified as the following slaughter had proven.

Still, he couldn’t condemn the man simply for being potentially dangerous, could he?

Now more than ever, Ryden wished Cain was with him. His mentor would know what to do.

“You’re good to go— nothing is impeding the blood flow, and the claws will hold,” he sent off the feline man and turned his attention to the ring of newly-armed veterans that had formed around Sieg.

“So I finally severed the dreadhog’s spine”, Kaz rumbled, swiping his giant paw in the air. “And of course, it fell right atop Nahlid here,” he pointed at a grey-skinned mountain of a man, “and buried him beneath its lower body. The thing was so massive, I had to cut open its rear and pull out Nahlid like a feline midwife delivering the worlds most ugly kitten!”

The audience roared with laughter, including Siegfried. He looked right at home between the hardy people that Kaz had gathered despite being several years younger. Alas, the real reason behind his speedy recovery was obviously Haylee. The two had danced around each other since Ryden met them, and apparently, something changed recently.

Haylee was good for him, and maybe it would be enough. Still, someone had to keep a vigilant eye on Siegfried.

Ryden shook his head, pulling himself from his musings. All that could wait until they found Cain, and everything would be easier with his counsel.

“Hey Kaz, I’m done here. Are we ready to move out?”

“Oh, we are more than ready to enter the ring,” Kaz grinned, showcasing the long, curved spike that was pressed to the stump of his left wrist. It was as massive as a clawbear’s foreleg and fastened with a dozen leather straps and wooden splints. “We’ve been on the receiving end for too long already.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The glint in the lion-man’s eyes spoke of violence.

††† Siegfried †††

Keeping close to his own companions, Siegfried followed Kaz’s team through the maze of tunnels. Their goal was the pit of trial— a fighting ground to measure an individuals combat prowess and allow those who were victorious to move into the next area, acquiring a higher living standard.

Challengers had to be approved by the leaders of the ruling faction, which in their case were Bahsah and Kaz.

Including himself, the lion-man’s group consisted of eight felines, a tall canine woman, and the grey-skinned Nahlid.

Whatever creature had lent Nahlid his form, Sieg had never seen or heard of it. The man was a giant of muscle and fat, protected by a thick, leathery hide that supposedly even Kaz couldn’t penetrate. And the claws on Kaz’s good hand were as long as Siegfried’s fingers. Nahlid’s only natural weapon had been two massive tusks protruding from the cheeks of his vaguely human face. They had been cut off at the base, but he assured Siegfried that he didn’t need any weapons when it was clear that there was not enough food left for Sieg to create more bones.

It seemed that the veterans weren't concerned about the trials they had to face. Instead, they were eager to finally let loose again after everything they had gone through.

Haylee, Ryden and especially Sally did not share their confidence as Siegfried knew.

The battles would be one on one in an open area. Haylee was naturally ill-equipped for a fair fight, and Ryden could use only a fraction of his ability in public. Sally could not use her power at all while facing whatever monster they sent against her. At least she would have an enforcer’s sword as Kaz assured them that word about the weapon would come out anyway since Siegfried showed it at the entrance to Victor’s Bounty.

The faint noise of shouting and cheers reached their ears as the group walked out into a spacious, well-lit cave. It was dominated by a deep, circular pit surrounded by wooden scaffoldings to hold the audience of the spectacle.

Sieg jogged up to Kaz. “I thought we were the only challengers today. Who are they cheering on?”

“There is always a reason to use the arena down here,” the lion-man showed a toothy grin. “Be it to settle a grudge, challenge for a position, or just to blow off steam. Sure, you can do all that outside of the ring, but then you risk the ruling faction to come down on your sorry arse.”

While they approached the pit, Sieg felt his hackles rise. He spotted the cause of his distress on one of the platforms overlooking the simple arena.

A set of dark-brown eyes were scrutinising him with an intensity that matched his own. They belonged to a burly man with red skin. His only clothing was some kind of kilt made from animal fur, and two worn, curved swords were strapped to his hip. The fierce-looking warrior jumped from the stand and approached with confident steps.

“It seems our special guests have finally arrived,” the man welcomed them with a mock bow. He was older than Sieg thought at first, although the uncountable scars that adorned his torso and face made a precise estimate impossible.

“Torg Wrathraiser,” Kaz exclaimed. “I take you’re still overseeing the challenges.”

“Not as often, but when I heard what happened to the shadow-claws, I had an inkling that it would be worth to attend to this challenge myself,” Torg grinned. “Hope you’ll be showing me a better fight than those upstarts in the pit,” he threw a dismissive gesture towards the arena. “You’re up once they finish tearing each other to pieces, so get ready!” With those parting words, Torg took his spot on the stand again.

Intrigued, Siegfried moved forward to catch a glimpse of the fight below. What he saw was a man that resembled the howlers facing a familiar red-headed Nivetian.

“Hey Ryden, that ape-man, isn’t that Samuel?” Siegfried asked.

“You’re right. And doesn’t look good for him.”

Samuel was bleeding profusely from several cuts on both of his long, furred arms and a deep gash in his side. His opponent was harassing him with quick strikes, dashing in and out of range while never giving the Nivetian a chance to grab him. While Samuel might have had the longer reach, he was too slow to make it count.

When the canine darted in again, Samuel stumbled back as if the blood loss finally made him sluggish.

Sensing the opportunity to end their fight, the wolf-like man went for the throat and overextended while following the collapsing form of his enemy. At that moment, Samuel stopped his fall with his left arm while grabbing for the canine with his right.

The momentum didn’t allow the canine to dash back in time, his eyes bulging as he fell into the crushing grip.

Samuel caught his tormentor at the shoulder and swung the body into the ground beneath him. Before the canine could get his breath, the Nivetian grabbed the other shoulder with his left hand and pulled with all his might.

The tearing of flesh was audible, and Siegfried saw Ryden turn around in disgust. “Well, at least our friend seems to be the survivor, provided he doesn’t die of bloodloss.”

“Friend?” Sally asked, sceptical. “I can’t say for sure because it was quite a distance, but I am pretty sure that this is the ape-hybrid that guided Damon Pride to your group.”