City of Fallen Souls: A LitRPG Adventure (UnderVerse Book 3) Jez Cajiao (best color ebook reader txt) 📖

spun to face the other private booths, finding men and women of all species staring down at me with hate-filled eyes.

“WHAT’S WRONG?” I roared. “YOU TOO SCARED TO FIGHT ME NOW?”

The crowd began to chant again, now split between cries of ‘Death, death, death!” and a hardier few who were chanting “LEEEGION, LEEEGION!”

The announcer stepped forward in Mal’s booth, clearly having been prodded by the arena master, and he called out in a magically enhanced voice that carried over the slowly rising chants.

“Honored guests… the challenger has turned down his rest cycle and has demanded a new competitor immediately. I believe the next in line is Nigret, the Demon of the Sands?”

“Come on, then, Nigret!” I shouted, clanging my sword and shield again. “I’m fucking waaaaaaiting!”

I glanced back at the Legionnaires in my room, watching me through the bars of the door, and I saw them cheering me on. I saw the looks on their faces, the desperate hope and pride, of men and women who’d been forced to take shit for far too long, forced to not rock the boat. Now they had a new leader, one who wanted to burn the boat down and piss on the ashes, and they loved it!

I heard the door behind me clang as the bolts holding it shut were released and I watched a huge white felinoid as he stalked into the arena. He was taller than me, but only by a few inches this time. He wore a heavy metal chestplate with a bright red ruby set into the very center of his chest. Beyond that, he was armored much as I was, with heavy plates attached over leather and chainmail, and he bore a pair of scimitars. Their heavy curved blades and his plate armor made me nod in grudging respect. He was a tank, and looked as though he knew what he was doing, unlike the dick who was slowly cooling behind me now.

I started forward, my blood up, and I ignored the Announcer calling out the fight. I held my shield in place, slowly swinging my sword from side to side.

“You are a brave opponent, but foolish,” the cat man called out, and I nodded, accepting the facts as he said them.

“You should have rested, prepared for our fight. Perhaps you would have lived longer, yes?” He shifted closer, then started to circle me at a distance of about two meters.

“Maybe you should have found some standards, instead of coming to face the Legion,” I retorted and he scoffed.

“These fools might believe you are a prisoner, captured and forced to fight, but Nigret knows different… no prisoner walks like you do, taunts the crowd, or wants more fights. A prisoner would have taken the time, gone back to his room and rested, yes?” he said, flicking his scimitars out to lightly touch my shield, testing me.

“Maybe you should reconsider your life… while you still can.” I said to him, blocking and deflecting his second strike, then taking his next hit to the shield as I stepped forward.

We exchanged a series of blows, each testing the other. Our training had clearly been similar, displayed in our mutual method of watching our opponent’s eyes as much as the blades. Then we backed away again.

“You seem strange, cub,” Nigret said. “Unsure of your claws, yet confident of the fight. Why is this?” he asked, almost conversationally, before stepping in and sending a blinding flurry of blows into my shield and sword, trying to break through my guard.

“Truth be told, I usually use a different weapon…” I said, grinning as I came up with a plan. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to throw the match, surrender, and come work for me, could I?” I asked hopefully.

“Alas, no. I think that Nigret and the Legion’s views on property would not match, also murder, and…”

I lunged forward, my shield angled upwards, along with my sword, forming two thirds of a triangle. As both of Nigret’s scimitars smashed down, his eyes widened as he realized this wasn’t another test. He tried to frantically back away, even as I chased him, my sword flashing out to bounce off his upper thigh. The strike made him grunt as I managed to cut through a few of the chainmail links, sending blood trickling down his leg.

I knew I had to keep going, and I did, rushing him as he tried to retreat, blocking his scimitars as they swung again and again, until he shifted styles, jumping and kicking my shield hard enough to stagger me. Suddenly, I was the one retreating as his scimitars flashed faster and faster.

I backtracked across the ground I’d just gained, and more, blocking and deflecting more than counterattacking, until I noticed a particular cadence to his attacks. He’d use a stab, then a pair of thrusts, then a kick, then start a separate pattern, clearly designed to keep me moving.

I reacted to the suspicion as soon as it clarified in my mind; if I was right, then his next attack would be a kick, so…

I dug my back foot into the sand and put my weight behind my shield, becoming as immovable as I could. I paused a second, then stabbed my sword over the rim, aimed upwards and thrust!

It worked! He’d fallen into a pattern, and as he kicked, he was met with a suddenly immovable shield, rather than one that was constantly shifting. He staggered, giving me the chance to cut him across the face. The tip of my blade sliced from his left cheek, across his face, to rip a large hooped earing from his tufted ear.

He snarled in pain, backing up, and I ran at him, taking a flurry of blows on my shield and sword as I closed the distance again. I deflected his left sword wide and struck him in the face with the pommel of my gladius on the return.

“Tricky little mouse!” he hissed, backing up and spitting blood out onto the sand.

“Should