The Red Kingdom Ch 8: Fighting For Onces Life, A Dead Vurlak!

This was dumb. Gods, this was so dumb.

I didn't even have a plan—just adrenaline, and a dumb reflex that told me I had to do something. And now? Now the damned Vurlak had its beady little murder-eyes locked right on me.

"Great move, Throne," I muttered, backing up a step, my bare feet sliding over the dirt. "Really brilliant."

I risked a glance at the boy—the one I'd tried to save.

He was still on the ground, his chest rising in short, fast gasps. His tunic was shredded, stained with red. One of his arms twitched like he still wanted to fight, but his body was giving up. His chest had been torn to ribbons—too deep, too much.

He wasn't going to make it.

And that meant I'd just gotten myself killed for nothing.

I didn't get time to feel sorry for it though, because the Vurlak lunged.

I barely dove out of the way, my body twisting sideways as its tail whipped around, cutting through the air with a high-pitched crack.

The damn thing moved fast for something so lumpy. It skidded across the dirt, spun around, and came at me again—teeth gnashing, claws slicing through the space where I had just been.

I rolled again. A claw missed my face by inches.

Every dodge left my chest tighter. My lungs screamed for air.

I couldn't do this forever.

I didn't have forever.

I looked up—just for a second.

Senaka was sitting cross-legged like a queen on her throne, her bronze armor catching the sunlight. She was smiling wide now, teeth glinting, one eye blind but no less focused.

She was enjoying this.

"Damn her," I growled under my breath. I'd get her back for this one day.

But first—I had to live.

The Vurlak swiped again. This time, it got me.

A jagged claw raked across my thigh, tearing skin, sending a hot burst of pain through my leg. I cried out and collapsed onto the ground, my face hitting dirt, breath stolen from me.

The world spun.

I could hear the Vurlak circling.

"Not now," I grunted, crawling, dragging my body with one hand while the other scraped against something—hard, flat, cold.

My fingers closed around it.

A rock.

No, not just a rock. Sharp, sturdy.

A jagged edge. A grip just wide enough. It was no sword, no hero's blade—but it was something.

It was hope.

I pushed myself up, blood running down my leg. The pain was blinding, but I forced my foot to stay planted.

The Vurlak hissed and charged again.

I gripped the rock in both hands, knuckles white.

"Come on, you big bastard!" I roared.

This was it.

One shot.

Make it count.

The Vurlak didn't hesitate.

It charged, its paws pounding the dirt, claws curled like hooks, mouth wide and slobbering.

Then—it leapt.

Right at me.

I didn't run.

I didn't freeze.

I didn't scream.

I moved.

I pushed down every voice in my head telling me to duck, to run, to give up.

I stepped in.

The beast's claws ripped into my left shoulder as it landed on me, driving me to the ground. The pain was blinding, white-hot and sharp as hell. I nearly dropped the rock right then.

But I didn't.

Because I had a target.

Its eye.

Its left eye.

Before it could bite, before it could swipe again—I drove the rock up with both hands, shoving it hard.

It pierced soft tissue, sliding in deep.

The creature let out a high, horrible screech—the kind that rings in your teeth and in your soul. Its whole body thrashed, legs kicking, claws flailing wildly. I felt its blood spill down my hands, hot and wet.

It leapt off me, flinging itself sideways, howling and screeching, its head smashing into the dirt as it rolled.

It twisted, flailed—then collapsed.

Still.

Breathless.

Dead.

I stared at it, chest heaving, body screaming, blood pouring from my shoulder and leg.

"I..." I gasped, my throat raw, "I... I did it. I actually did it."

My legs buckled. I dropped to one knee, gripping my shoulder, the pain finally crashing into me like a tidal wave.

Everything hurt.

But I was alive.

And the Vurlak was not.

I turned my head slowly, forcing myself to look.

The boy.

He was still there.

Lying flat on his back. Still.

Too still.

I crawled over to him. My limbs barely obeyed. The grass felt heavy. The blood in my ears was louder than the wind.

I reached him.

One glance told me what I already knew.

His eyes were closed. His chest didn't move. The color had drained from his face.

I stared at him for a long time.

He'd fought. He'd volunteered. He'd run circles around that monster like he'd done it a hundred times.

And he still died.

He didn't even get to know that he won.

I lowered my head. Closed my eyes.

No words.

No prayers.

Just silence.

He deserved that much.

I hadn't even finished catching my breath when the ground beneath me began to rumble.

At first, I thought it was just the pain catching up to me—maybe my heart finally giving out. But no.

This was real.

The dirt trembled. Twigs snapped. Pebbles bounced like something massive was stomping my soul into the earth.

My eyes shot open.

I looked up—

Just in time to see a shadow cover the sky.

BOOM!

Senaka's hand slammed into the ground right next to me, kicking up a cloud of dust that hit me square in the face. I choked, fell backward, coughed hard enough to taste blood.

And then her voice.

Low. Rich. That smug tone again.

"You've got a lot of nerve," she said.

I blinked, trying to see past the haze.

Her face loomed over me like a mountain of bronze and brown skin, her white teeth gleaming in a smile that could cut steel.

"Interfering with another man's battle... without permission, I might add."

She crouched lower, her single working eye locking onto me like a spotlight. The scar over her blind eye looked even deeper up close, like a canyon carved into her brow.

And gods, her breath smelled like smoked meat and steel.

I didn't move.

Not out of respect. Not out of fear.

I was just too wrecked to get up.

"I don't mind such balls, little man," she added, voice dripping with amusement. "Especially when they get such good results."

I barely got a second to register that before two of her fingers pinched around my waist.

Up I went.

Fast.

The ground dropped away beneath me like I'd been snatched by the gods themselves.

Her massive face filled my vision, eyes wide with approval. I dangled in the air like some weird prize, still clutching the blood-slick rock in one hand.

"Congrats," she said, voice soft but smug. "You pass."

My mouth opened. No words came out.

I think all I managed was:

"...Cool."