Chapter 13: Targets
Chapter 13: Targets
With a surge of adrenaline and the roar of the crowd still ringing in his ears, Demitas raised his right hand, triumphantly clenching his fist in the air. The crowd erupted in a chorus of whistles and screams, their voices merging into a cacophony of celebration.
Demitas!
Demitas!
Demitas!
The chant echoed through the arena, growing louder and more fervent with each repetition. The name resounded in his ears, a rallying cry that embodied the awe-inspiring feat he had just accomplished.
This was more than just a win. It was a defining moment, etching itself into the annals of the arena's history. The legacy he created would endure for years to come, his name whispered with reverence and admiration by future generations.
The rise in rank and the surge of fame that accompanied his victory were not merely superficial accolades. They symbolized the redemption of their previous loss, a triumph that resonated with his team and supporters who had stood by him through thick and thin.
Soon, his gaze shifted towards the other teams, he saw their faces filled with awe and admiration. The intensity of his performance had left an indelible impression on his rivals, earning their respect and applause.
While the applause gradually intensified, Demitas took a moment to soak it all in. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste of victory, feeling the pace of his heart echoing the rhythm of the clapping hands.
With a grateful smile on his face, Demitas bowed to the crowd, acknowledging their support and appreciation. Demitas, still basking in the afterglow of his victory, was suddenly greeted by a symphony of metallic sounds.
Ting!
The first coin made contact with the ground, sending a jolt of excitement through Demitas' veins. It was swiftly followed by a chorus of coins, their collective tinkling forming a mesmerizing melody that resonated with the cheers and applause of the crowd.
Tiririring!
The coins fell in a dazzling display, creating a captivating symphony of sound and sight. They piled up around Demitas, forming a glittering carpet at his feet. Each coin seemed to dance through the air, glimmering in the bright lights of the arena.
Babyface swiftly collected the scattered wealth, his hands moving with precision and excitement. His eyes sparkled with delight as he gathered the tokens of appreciation, their weight and texture filling his palms.
Coins of different metals shone brightly in the arena. Bronze coins had a warm hue, silver ones sparkled brilliantly, and gold coins added a touch of opulence to the spectacle, reflecting the unwavering support, admiration, and opulence of the crowd.
Demitas stood in awe, his eyes wide with disbelief as the rain of coins descended upon the ring. He had never anticipated such an outpouring of generosity from the crowd.
In the annals of pit fighting history, these instances were few and far between. They were etched in the memories of those fortunate enough to witness them, spoken of in hushed tones and revered as legendary events.
The blessings bestowed upon him were a testament to his prowess and the impact he had made on the hearts of the crowd. From that day forward, his name would be mentioned alongside the tales of those few who had been blessed by such extraordinary moments.
Together, Demitas and Babyface swiftly gathered the coins that rained down upon them. Their hands moved in a synchronized frenzy, snatching up each precious piece of metal. The clinking sound of the coins echoed in their ears as they filled their coin pouches to the brim.
Demitas soon hurriedly grabbed Babyface by the hands.
"Wait! There's more!" Babyface made his complaint.
Berthold whimpered in pain, his body trembling as he struggled to find comfort on the unforgiving floor.
Gale rushed to Berthold's side, his hands trembling as he checked on his fallen ally. The severity of the damage became apparent as Gale saw the anguish in Berthold's eyes and realized the extent of his injuries. It was clear that his spine had suffered a critical blow, rendering him unable to walk or even stand.
"No!" Gale screamed, his voice echoing through the arena. "You will pay for this!" His eyes burned with a fierce determination and anger, directed at Demitas, the one responsible for Berthold's grave injury.
It was then that Demitas and Babyface left the ring, they left behind the injured opponent and proceeded towards the exit. The crowd's cheers still echoed in their ears, a mixture of victory and relief filling their hearts.
Leaving the arena, they found themselves in a hallway, the sounds of the crowd fading into the distance. They walked side by side, their steps steady and determined, eager to reach the sanctuary of their quarters.
However, as they turned a corner, their path was unexpectedly blocked by a group of slaves. The sudden encounter caught them off guard, and they quickly assessed the situation. Each member had distinct features that made them stand out - one burly, one bald, one with a scar on his face, and another who was stout and fat.
All bore the unmistakable sun tattoo on their necks, marking them as members of the same team. Demitas and Babyface exchanged glances, sensing that these slaves were likely seeking retribution for Berthold's defeat.
Demitas felt a surge of alarm course through him as he realized the potential danger they faced. His recent injuries and depleted energy levels made him aware of his vulnerable state. He glanced at Babyface, knowing that they were outnumbered and lacking the support of their teammates.
In that moment, Demitas's mind raced, assessing their options and considering their next move. Demitas's concern for Babyface's safety intensified as he weighed the possibility of urging his teammate to flee. He knew that Babyface would be at great risk if he tried to escape alone, as the group of slaves outnumbered them and showed no signs of backing down.
The burly slave, with muscles rippling under his skin, stepped forward, his voice filled with menace. "Your money, give it to me."
And the labelled targets appeared.