Chapter 2 - The Beast of Shadow Gate
The iron gates shattered open with a violent metallic bang. Out slunk the abyssal monster—a creature bred in the underground pits of the Eastern Wastes, massive, muscle-bound, and driven insane by weeks of darkness and blood-starvation. Its obsidian fur bristled, and its burning amber eyes locked onto the solitary boy in the center of the ring.
"Kill him!" King Aldric screamed from the balcony, his regal posture completely shattered into hysteria. "Release the second gate! Kill the pretender where he stands!"
The nobles gasped, but no one dared countermand the king. A second portcullis swung wide, and two massive hunting hound-hybrids rushed into the sunlight, joining the prime beast. Three monsters now circled a boy armed only with a dull, six-inch iron shank.
In the stands, merchants and peasant women shielded their children's eyes. But Leo did not retreat. He closed his eyes for a single second, taking a long, deep breath, tuning out the noise of the arena.
When his eyes snapped open, his posture changed. It was no longer the slouched, defensive stance of a street beggar—it was the fluid, precise guard of the ancient Royal Swordmasters.
The first hound leaped, jaws wide, drool flying in the wind. Leo didn't swing his blade. He ducked under the beast's leap with terrifying speed, drove his elbow upward into the hound's throat, and used its momentum to throw the thirty-pound creature directly into the path of the pouncing abyssal panther.
The panther's razor claws tore through its own hound in mid-air. Blood sprayed across the dust.
Before the panther could recover its footing, Leo sprinted across the sand, planted his boot on the stone arena wall, and launched himself onto the beast's back. He wrapped his thin arms around its massive neck, driving his small dagger deep into the soft cartilage behind its ear.
The monster roared in agony, thrashing violently, smashing itself back-first against the arena walls to crush the boy. Leo took the full force of the impact, coughing up a spatter of crimson, but he held his grip, twisting the blade until the giant beast collapsed onto its side, shivering its last breath into the red dirt.
The third monster fled back into the shadows of the open gate, whimpering.
Leo stood atop the fallen creature, breathing heavily, blood dripping from his knuckles onto the pale dust. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand and looked back up at the royal box.
The thousands of spectators, once baying for his blood, remained dead silent. Then, somewhere in the upper tiers, a solitary voice shouted: "The Prince lives!"
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The phrase caught like flame in dry brush. Within seconds, half the stadium was chanting: "The Prince lives! The Sword of the Realm!"
King Aldric’s face turned from pale white to a deep, murderous purple. He turned to his commander of the Royal Guard, Lord Vane. "Lock down the city gates. Execute anyone who chants his name. And bring me that boy's head before sundown!"
