A slow, seething rage boiled beneath Ash's bruised skin. His body ached, his limbs were heavy, a testament to the brutal onslaught he had endured. Yet, refused to falter. The poison coating his scales pulsed in response to his will, a living, sentient entity. The sickly purple liquid surged forward, seeking purchase on the metallic flesh of the towering bull of a man, Ronny, who stood before him.
The moment the poison made contact, a violent hiss ripped through the air, a testament to the corrosive power of the substance. Smoke curled upwards, a noxious cloud born of the acidic reaction, as the poison ate into Ronny's metal-like hide.
Ronny's expression twisted into a mask of rage, his short temper flaring. With sheer, brute strength, he tore himself free from the poison's grip, the metallic screech of his flesh resisting the corrosive substance filling the pit. In the same fluid motion, he lunged forward, his hand reaching for Ash's throat, a move that promised swift, brutal termination.
And then, in an instant, he stopped.
A faint shimmer of magic, a delicate web of violet energy, wrapped around his limbs like invisible shackles, holding him in place. His red eyes, burning with barely contained fury, flared as he scanned the pit, searching for the source of the sudden, unexpected interference.
His gaze locked onto the shadowed entrance of the pit, where a figure stood silhouetted against the darkness.
Meave.
She stood within the dark alley, her form barely visible, only the faint, ethereal glow of her staff illuminating her presence. The light, a soft, violet luminescence, pulsed weakly, a fragile beacon in the encroaching shadows. Her already battered form trembled, the strain of her magic visible in every line of her posture. She looked frail, like a flickering candle in a storm, ready to be extinguished. Yet, the knowing smirk playing on her lips held none of the weakness her body betrayed.
Ronny's growl rumbled through the air, a guttural sound of barely suppressed rage. "Who are you?"
She barely acknowledged him, her violet eyes, glowing with an unnatural intensity, locking onto Ash instead.
"I said if you die, it won't be suitable," she murmured, her voice a low, melodic whisper that carried across the pit, laced with a chilling amusement.
Ash stared at her in confusion, his brow furrowed. Why was she helping him? They were not allies, nor even friendly rivals. Their relationship was a tense, unspoken understanding, a delicate balance of mutual observation and thinly veiled hostility.
Meave let a pause linger, her eyes never leaving Ash's. "I don't take free favors. You should know that."
Even through his ragged breathing, Ash let out a dry, satisfied sigh. That was more like it. That was the Meave he knew, the one who operated on cold logic and calculated self-interest.
But Ronny wouldn't be held for long With raw, unrelenting strength, he forced himself against her magic, his massive frame straining against the violet shackles. Meave's brows furrowed, beads of sweat trickling down her temple as she struggled to maintain her hold. But it wasn't enough.
With a furious, earth-shattering yank, Ronny turned her own magic against her, using its force to drag her forward, as if she were a puppet caught in her own strings.
The magical barrier faltered, its shimmering violet light flickering and dimming. Uren, exhausted from maintaining the barrier for so long, collapsed backward into the audience seats, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Meave, unable to withstand the overwhelming force, was ripped from her position and thrown into the pit like a discarded doll. She landed hard, her already battered body crumpling upon impact, a sickening thud echoing through the arena. The faint glow of her staff extinguished, plunging the entrance of the pit into darkness.
And then—
Kelly ran.
It was pure instinct.
She moved before she could think, before she could hesitate. She sprinted past the crowd, darting toward the pit without fear.
The warriors who had been waiting for the barrier to drop lunged forward as well, focused on the battle ahead. None of them noticed the small child running with them—except for one.
One warrior glanced down, eyes narrowing as he registered the tiny figure. To him, she was nothing more than an inconvenience. A mistake to be corrected.
Without hesitation, he raised his sword.
But Ash's instincts were faster.
The poison lashed out, melting the flesh from the warrior's bones the moment it made contact. The man didn't even have time to scream before his body crumbled into nothing.
Yet Kelly never noticed.
She ran straight toward Ash, undeterred, unfazed.
And Ash—beaten, exhausted, still cornered—shifted his stance, moving instinctively to shield her. The poison on his arms thickened, forming a protective layer over his body.
Norman, who had been sitting back and enjoying the show, barely reacted. He watched the chaos unfold, his attention flickering toward Meave's interference, toward Ronny's growing rage.
Whatever was happening in the pit—whether it was Ash, Kelly, or the warriors falling apart—it wasn't his concern. Not his call to take.
Kelly skidded to a stop in front of Ash, panting.
Ash's ember eyes bore down on her, still glinting with beastly rage, still flickering with battle instincts. His body towered over her, his swamp drake form giving him an even more monstrous presence.
But she wasn't afraid.
She had never been afraid of him.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Ash rasped, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "It's not safe, kid."
Kelly didn't answer right away. Her chest rose and fell, her small hands clenched into fists. Then, She stomped her foot.
Ash blinked, stunned by the sudden outburst.
"kelly was looking for you!" Kelly's voice, though high-pitched, was filled with something fierce. "mista ash were gone, and kel—kelly—" She gritted her teeth, her expression twisting in frustration. "mista ash stupid!"
Ash exhaled sharply. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard that before." He glanced at the ongoing battle. "But seriously, you need to get out of here—"
"No."
That one word stopped him.
Kelly's brows furrowed as she took a step closer, her tiny form standing firm. "mista saved kelly. So now kelly have to save mista."
Ash stared at her, something unreadable crossing his face.
"You don't owe me anything, kid," he muttered. "That's not how this works."
Kelly stomped her foot again tearing up a bit. "Yes, it is!"
A dry, almost amused breath left him. "You're a stubborn brat."
"Mista is stupid pa.."
Before she could finish her words, Ash's body reacted instinctively.
He grabbed her—swift, sharp, without hesitation—pulling her close just as a massive force came hurtling toward them.
A blur of motion.
Ronny, with Meave still in his grasp, had begun spinning her like a toy, her body whipping through the air in a violent arc. She was nothing but a ragdoll in his hands, an object to be used, to be discarded.
Had Ash not moved—had he not yanked Kelly away—Meave's battered body would have crashed into her at full force.
Instead, Meave slammed into the ground just beside them, rolling across the blood-soaked pit like a broken marionette.
Kelly gasped, gripping onto Ash's scaled arm, her tiny fingers digging into him. The moment had been too fast for her to comprehend, but she knew—if Ash hadn't pulled her away, she would have been done.
Ash's heart pounded in his chest. Not from exhaustion. Not from battle. But from that. From the moment he almost saw Kelly crushed in front of him.
His ember eyes snapped toward Ronny.
The towering bull of a man let out a huff, rolling his shoulders as he cracked his knuckles. The movement was slow, deliberate. Mocking.
Ronny barely even acknowledged what had just happened.
But Ash did.
And something inside him burned.
Poison dripped from his arms, coiling and writhing like it shared his fury. His beast will pulsed. His form shifted, his presence growing heavier, darker.
Ronny, unbothered, let out a deep chuckle. "Hah. Almost lost something important, huh?" His grin widened, sharp and knowing. "Careful now, drake. You're getting sloppy."
Ash didn't respond.
He simply placed Kelly behind him.
His voice was low, quiet—dangerous. "Stay there."
Kelly blinked up at him, sensing the shift, the sharpness in his tone. For once, she didn't argue.
Ash turned back toward Ronny.
This fight was far from over.