No. Grum had dropped it, now using that hand to tap Zack's as a sign he was giving up. That meant that Grum didn't just lose, it meant he forfeited all of his wins, having to start over from the beginning. Distantly, he could even see the manager of the Rings, Renton Goldeneyes, putting his thumb up as a reminder to not kill Grum.
Zack told his mind to let go, but his hand didn't listen. Only the hunger mattered. Only the hot blood rushing through his ears could be heard against the sweet violence of the crowd. Zack needed to feed the hunger, to give it some kind of purchase.
But he couldn't kill the man. Renton had made it clear to him half a year ago that he could win all one hundred fights without having to kill anyone. It was a stupid thing to attempt, but it could be done. That was the deal.
If he couldn't stop the hunger, maybe he could redirect it. Zack looked at Grum's leg, let go of his neck, and kicked his ankle. It snapped backward an inch away farther than the bones should have been. The crowd quieted to a near stop, and then just as quick as they hushed, they screamed in ugly triumph.
Zack was close enough to hear the snap, and he was sickened with himself that it sounded sweet to his ears, to let his hunger taste weakness because of his own power. That gut-wrenching twist of his stomach was enough to calm the trollbear's hunger, and the red film in his vision faded, only to be replaced with the sight of Grumbal Four-Hands being carted away.
He had doomed the man. You had to fight a battle at least once every week to stay in the Rings or you'd find yourself twisting in neat little circles above the ground while the flies picked at your eyeballs. Zack hadn't killed Grum, but he had broken his ankle in a way it would never heal properly. Even someone as skilled as Grum couldn't fight against one hundred opponents in a row to win his freedom. It wasn't like he was a flesh Elementalist.
Zack wanted to throw up, but he pushed it down and straightened his back, letting the sounds of of his name being repeated over and over again. He didn't like the attention, but did hope it proved loud enough that Yemiri could hear, that the crowd's words could echo all the way to Adjutant Lagrand's tower of ice.
From the private seats, Renton gave Zack a disapproving look. Zack had cut into the man's profits by injuring one of his better fighters. He didn't care. All he had left were three fights, then he'd win his freedom and use the prize money to buy Yemiri's slave title. They would go to the Farland and think of Astoria as only a forgotten dream.
--
"Morgoth's frozen balls, Zack. You snapped poor old Grum's ankle?" Laughed Fabiola.
The woman's hair was the color of dark chestnuts, and flowed long and smooth as a flowing river. She brushed it back and locked her dark brown eyes at him. He was still caught off by her foreign beauty and the fact he had actually met someone in the world with skin darker than his. While his was a little tanner than Astorian skin, Fabiola's was nearly charcoal black. Apparently, where Fabiola came from, dark skin was the norm.
Zack broke his gaze and felt his cheeks flush with shame. He answered her question by biting into another huge hunk of reindeer meat. He was hoping the Rings would get another shipment of trollbear, but it had been months since he got any. It wasn't like people were actively hunting the damned monsters down.
"Aww. Our little fighter is ashamed of hurting old man Grum," purred Astrid. Her thin, red lips curled upward into a smile that made Zack feel like he was a very small mouse and she a very large cat. "Don't worry, Zacky old boy. Grum has been in the Rings longer than he was a shoe mender ten blocks down. Well, that's the story anyway. You ever talk to the guy? He likes living in the Rings. Gives him consistency and keeps him young."
Zack gave Astrid an unconvinced look. The raven-haired woman with almond shaped eyes and a cute, round nose made her look like she could get away with anything, the way younger sisters seemed to be able compared to their older siblings. She lied through her teeth the way some of the Rings' bards sang songs. But unlike they're desperate ramblings over their tunes, Astrid loved to lie, to stretch her stories just far enough that made you doubt whether or not you were in on the lie to begin with.
Apart, Astrid and Fabiola were as different as could be. While Fabiola was every bit the calm, tactful warrior you heard came only form the Twisting Sands. Astrid was bored thief who could drink louder and longer than any ten men combined. But together, they were the deadliest combination of people Zack had ever seen.
Luckily, they had found him entertaining enough to take him under their wing in small daily spars. He had never learned to adopt Fabiola's spear techniques or Astrid's insights from her knives and bow, but he did enjoy spending time with them.
Fabiola tapped the table, looking at the several plates of meat next to Zack. "Even now, I still can't believe you eat so much meat. It's disgusting. Why don't you add in a vegetable every now and then."
"Mhmamhm," Zack replied, food spitting from his mouth, forcing the normally calm woman to wrinkle her face in disgust. He hadn't actually said anything that could amount to words, but he liked the effect it had.
Astrid leaned forward and mocked a wink at Zack. "I like a man with a strong stomach."
Zack swallowed and shook his head. He knew Astrid was kidding. "You should have seen the look on Renton's face. He was pissed that I snapped Grum's ankle. I don't know what came over me."
He knew exactly what had gone over him, but he didn't want to say it out loud, that he was on the very edge of his own sanity. While Fabiola and Grum and Astrid relied on years of experience and countless hours of training with masters, Zack could only rely on his powers as an Elementalist. Sometimes, he drew on his element of flesh too much too quickly, forcing the hunger out of him.
Astrid rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about Renton. He just wants to get your goat and remind you who is in charge. You're not cutting into his profits at all. If anything, he'll probably find a way to make even more money off of Grum the Lame."
Fabiola punched Astrid softly in the shoulder. "Watch your tongue, Astrid. Grumbal fought well and skillfully. Honor should be given."
Astrid stuck her tongue out. It wasn't the first time that Zack wondered how in the two met or what they did to get themselves in this situation. One day, he'd have to get it out of them. It seemed to be a sore subject between them.
Astrid leaned over the table and ruffled Zack's head. "I know what'll get your spirits up. We can go spar right now, prep for your third to last battle tomorrow."
Zack pushed her hand away, embarrassed. "What makes you think they'll make me fight tomorrow? They've never put me in fights closer than two days apart."
Fabiola smile turned flat. "There's a reason only one person has ever won one hundred fights in a row in the Rings, Zack. It's because no one has. The story about a single person several decades ago winning their freedom sounds like lies to me, a way to bring in money and give hope to the fighters."
Astrid nodded. "If I were Renton and wanted a renewable source of income forever, I'd make sure that whoever got close enough to one hundred battles would have the odds stacked against them. We've been here only a little longer than you. Heck, we're only a little older than you by a few years or so. But never in that time has someone gone through the Ringer and to get this close to one hundred fights like you. Pardon the pun."
Zack shrugged his shoulders. "Bring it on. But no thanks to the sparring. I had...an incident today that can't happen again. I need to go to my room and meditate."
Astrid gave Fabiola an odd look, which made Zack ask, "What?"
Fabiola breathed out. "You hate meditating. Shattered stones, you can't even sit still for your meal. Look! You're kicking your feet under the table like a small child. If there's something you want to talk about with us, you can, Zack. I know we're all here to fight against each other, but we're your friends. You can trust us."
Zack had wanted to hear those words since the day he first met them. But now, with the shame from losing control of the hunger, all he wanted to do was run away. He was so clos
e to freedom and getting Yemiri out from the clutches of the Adjutant that he couldn't stop now.
He nodded thankfully. "You guys are the best. Maybe after I win my freedom we can talk some more. But for now, I really need to meditate."
6
Fabiola and Astrid were right. Zack's fight had been the very next day.
That suited him just fine. He was feeling good, and the faster he could get his fights over with, the better. Soon, he'd get to see Yemiri.
He was already standing in the center of one of the small Rings, the people in the crowd chanting his name. Renton didn't seem to be in a good mood. Was Fabiola wrong in her assessment of the manager of the Rings? Was Renton really mad about Zack breaking one of his top fighter's ankles?
Either way, it put Zack on edge. Grum was ten times more skilled than him, forcing Zack to rely more on the trollbear's strength and ferocity, attacking when he clearly should have defended. In turn, he had to feed the hunger, letting the rage take over his mind. The old man had called it losing his sanity. He was beginning to understand why.
That move had cost him an ax head buried in his shoulder, but all that was left over from that was a small, thin line on his shoulder. Soon, even that would be gone.
Once again, Zack was wearing nothing but his rags for pants. He wanted to give off the persona that he was weak, something to look down upon. Relying both on his opponent's prejudices and his secret internal strength borrowed from the trollbear had got him this far.
As the opposite gate rose to reveal his opponent, he breathed in slowly through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, just like Astrid had taught him. The previous night, he had stopped meditating in a sitting position and found that it was much easier for him to calm down if he walked around his cell while picturing Yemiri. Only her image was able to calm the hunger lurking at the bottom of his throat.
He smiled at the thought of his friend. When I free her, he thought. She won't care about the hundred fights it took to get to her. Violence was never to her taste. But I can finally impress her with the letters I learned from Fabiola and Astrid. I can show her what a boat looks like and who to bribe so we can get on board without anyone else knowing, thanks to Astrid. Maybe, we can wait for Fabiola and Astrid to win their fights so they can join us.
The opposite gate finally opened, and the opponent stepped through. It was one man. Then another man stepped through. And three more, making five total, each holding their own unique weapons.
People in the crowd gasped, quickly turning to more screams for blood. They were no longer shouting Zack the Troll. Zack looked to Renton, and the man had a clear look of disgust.
I get it now, Zack thought. It's not about profits with him. The man just hates slaves. He's disgusted that I've been able to make it so far. Fine. Who cares.
He was normally silent in his fights, but he put up a hand, and the crowd was quick to hush. The opponents in front of him seemed confused, but bowed their heads in respect. Renton spoke first, his voice booming through his scarred lips. "Zack the Troll, are you forfeiting your ninety seven consecutive wins to forgo this fight? Remember that you agreed to one hundred consecutive battles to win, not one hundred men to fight. Here, you see the difference."
Something about the way the man asked the question made it sound like a challenge. It made Zack angry. He put hot wind in his own voice and let it soar through the crowd, screaming defiance, "No, Renton. Whether it's five or twenty or a thousand, I will put every one to the knee."
He changed his voice to address his opponents, "Come to me so I may break you."
Zack knew what he was saying and how he was saying it was completely foolish. He didn't care. In fact, he liked it. He wanted the entire world to know that no matter how many times you put him down, he would get back up. If you broke his legs, he'd claw his way to you just the same way he had to the trollbear.
He wasn't afraid of death. Zack was afraid of letting others decide things for him, even if he was a slave. No more words. So, he roared. The crowd roared with him.
The five men with whips, chains, hooks, daggers, and sword surrounded Zack in the tight Ring.
He could feel the lurking hunger compelling him to feed it with their pain and blood, to unleash its hidden strengths. Zack thought of pale-faced but beautiful Yemiri and her bell-like voice. The hunger was calmed. For now.
A chain shot out, and Zack leaped toward the hood with daggers. One knife stabbed at him while the other swiped. The man was clearly skillful, but skill didn't matter against a flesh Elementalist's punch powered by the strength of a trollbear.
The nearest wall of dirt was caved in by the crumpled man who held the daggers and then dropped them. That didn't stop the man with hooks to carve a chunk of Zack's left calf, almost forcing him on his knees.
But Zack had felt real pain before, the kind of pain that made you see the end of your own life, and this wasn't it. He bit back the pain, tightened his muscles, and whipped around, grabbing the hook by the edge of its blade.
Blood dripped down Zack's hand as his grip tightened around the hook. Its owner's eyes widened in horror. He shouted, "Are you insane?"
"Not yet," Zack growled.
Yanking the hook from its owner's grip, he batted away the other hook and stomped the man's foot while dodging the whip of the other attacker. The end of the whip curled back on its snap and mistakenly hit the hook user's neck, causing him to collapse.
Zack dodged and rolled out of the way as the heavy end of the chains made a small crater in the soft ground where he had just been. Two down, three to go.
But it had come at a cost. Despite pushing away the pain of having a quarter of his left calf ripped away, it limited his mobility for the rest of the fight. Unless there was trollbear meat available, he'd have to eat meat for two days straight for it to heal in any way that mattered.
Zack couldn't help but notice the sword user was hanging back calm and confident behind the chain and whip owners. He was probably there to cover their short and mid-range attacks while the others attack Zack from long range. From the way he held himself, he seemed very skilled, much more skilled than Grum but not quite on the same level as Fabiola.
As long as they controlled the space of the Ring, he'd be in their hands. That wouldn't do. He needed to change things up and fast.
Acting on instincts alone, he snarled and rushed forward. The beat of his heart quickened, and he could feel the hunger growing, despite the constant image of Yemiri in his mind. He was injured and facing three opponents who were well prepared for him. They were out for his blood, and that made the animal in him angry.
Zack decided to open the cage to his hunger, if only a little and while it was on a leash. He needed it to survive the next moments. Something escaped from his lips, a growl that wasn't quite human, and he saw the fear in his opponent's eyes. Their fear was nearly palpable to him, almost a scent not unlike the sweetness of blood to his lips.
They were here to hurt him and they'd pay.
Quick as blink, Zack was crouched beneath the whip user who was clearly unused to the speed which Zack showed. Good. Prey should be caught off guard.
The butt end of Zack's palm pressed straight into the man's groin with the weight and power of a beast three times his size. Getting kicked in the balls sucked. But getting your balls crushed by the strength of a monster caused you to collapse and beg for your life to end.
Zack should know since the man did just that. The whip user wasn't dead, but he was down.
The chain user curled the metal of his chains at Zack, twisting around his forearm, the sharp ends of which bit into his flesh. Blood spurt out from Zack's wrist on to his face.
Zack laughed in response to the pain, a sound between a growl and a cackle.
The sword user finally stepped in since Zack was in range to his weapon, lunging in a downward strike from above. Zack didn't just unleash the hunger, he let it take over, the edges of his vision turning red. No calm image of the stars o
f the smile of Yemiri's face could take him back now while there were still two men after his defeat.
The Flesh Elementalist Page 5
