Chapter 8: War

After talking to himself, Wasting heard a click. The door to his chamber unlocked, swung open.

Wasting stayed in the white room for a few seconds, while the door swayed from the breeze. A monotonous, feminine voice played from a small box with a microphone. "Wasting, report to gate three."

He came out the room, head low, eyes alert. No guards as he traveled the winding corridors. Signs directed him as he traversed past the calcium crusted walls. His only company became the sound of his claws clicking against the floor.

Eventually, the intercom said, "Guards will be sent for extra coercion within five minutes." Sheesh, Wasting thought, I didn't even do anything. He pumped his legs, attempting to race the countdown, less he find out what "coercion" meant.

He came upon a staircase that scraped the exosphere. How could he get over it in twenty minutes, much less five?

The trudge ended at a platform with a splinter-covered bench, and a metal gate with crossing bars. Peeking past the gate, Wasting discovered an open field full of dried earth, yellow as sand yet hard as rock.

He could make out, that hundreds of yards away, stood a metal door like his. Perhaps that's where a second captive could come out. Group punishment? Public humiliation? Maybe Talizarin would make good on that joke to shave their butts for fur coats...

Chains lifted the two iron doors. A dark brown coyote stumbled to the field.

Wasting never entered a stadium prior. He'd never seen the classic ring shape, or heard thousands of crimsons whooping and rising from their seats, or smelled the sweet beverages the audience members sloshed and slurped.

A mechanical whirring overtook the area as the sandbox transformed underneath their feet. Wasting took retreating steps. Treasure chests lined the walls. A pool of water rose up with a metal "log" fitting between either end of the pond.

The referee walked to the pond. Someone's voice played in the stadium. "This is a tournament to decide who will live as a gladiator, and who will leave a winner." Gladiator fights?

It sounded like Talizarin's voice. Scanning, Wasting spotted Talizarin behind a glass pane in his private building. Talizarin held a unique mechanical device, a slender stick that magnified his voice.

"Meet Wasting, who has not only partaken in killing our own, he's also a friend of the Slaughterhound."

I've never done anything, Wasting thought.

"On the other side is Spar, who was once friends with Khrystol and they forgot how good they had it. But enough about the specifics." He clapped his paws twice. "Alright, you two, get ready, shake paws, sniff butts, however you greet."

Fayldspar rolled his eyes. Wasting brought his nose towards Fayldspar's rear end, only to get batted away. "What is with you wolves and sniffing butts!? Can't you hear he's making fun of us?"

"It's perfectly natural! How do they detect hormones? Or identify others?"

"Psst," Talizarin said, "we look at each other." The audience rang out into laughter.

The referee said, "This match is a joust. The goal is to knock the other player into the lake. Neither of you are to put hands on each other. You will use weapons located in the chests."

Grab something from a chest? Maybe he'd bait Fayldspar in before whacking the little coyote over the log. 250 pounds versus maybe 150.

"Last rule is neither of you can be off the log longer than ten seconds."

Wasting furrowed his brow. Calculations flashed in his head as his pupils darted around. Ten seconds? Barely long enough to get to the chest, and far from long enough to get back to the log.

"Let the games, begin!" Talizarin said.

A bell rang.

A vine of water rose up, and snared Spar's leg. Spar grunted. He tried shaking the vine away. Wasting tripped him up, causing Spar to smack onto the log and slide sideways.

Wasting sauntered to Spar. He couldn't rip Spar's paws off per the rules, instead, he summoned a water whip to tie Spar's wrist. Then, he pulled down with both vines. The log pulverized Spar's stomach. He screamed.

The screeching caused Wasting to look towards the water. Spar noticed his hesitation. As Wasting turned a bit more, Spar's untied paw reached and went low.

Wasting wheezed and fell into the water. A ploomp accompanied like when a large rock fell into the water. Swimming back up, Wasting spat out water in a fountain-esque manner, before hacking and coughing up the remaining molecules in his lungs.

"Your winner is Fayldspar!" the referee said.

"He cheated! The little cheater, he punched me in the balls!" Wasting said as he paddled in the water.

The referee shrugged. "I didn't see nothin'. You lost, that's the final decision."

Four enforcers came to Wasting, and dragged him out the water with a fishing net. To prevent struggle, one shocked him around the neck. His body relaxed as crimsons dragged him away.

***

Citrus and Poinsiet came to the stadium. Eight pillars stood in order of height, with the lowest being five feet and the highest forty.

Neither engaged in pleasantries. Both heard and understood the idea of being gladiators, both due to prior experience.

Talizarin said, "The goal is to be the first to get to the final pillar." King Talizarin reclined against a chair, with Dryph perched next to him.

"No lowblows, no eyegouging. Anything else is fair game to get to the semi-finals." Semi-finals meant this round had eight players. Presumably, all of her pack and Khrystol's pack got included, filling seven slots, but this left the last a mystery.

"Let the games begin." A referee peeked over the top pillar.

The timekeeper rung the bell. Poinsiet jumped onto the first pillar. Her featherweight legs made Citrus' look thick, meaning she'd lack the same power Citrus had.

Citrus shot a Flashbang, then prepped a Shades spell in a classic combination. The Shades shielded her eyes while the Flashbang went off, bringing its high-pitched vibrations. Light drowned the stadium. Most audience members closed eyes and ears. Poinsiet, not aware of the impending orb, stayed on her pillar. The blind jump could mean a crash against concrete.

Citrus blazed several pillars, squatting before each leap, and landing on all fours. Don't think too much or -

Swillow cracking her skull entered her head.

No column held space for two competitors, forcing her to jump on Poinsiet's back as a stepping stone. She hopped towards the next pillar.

Poinsiet took a blind leap.

She bit down on Citrus' tail.

Citrus shrieked. Both fell. Thuds, as they landed from the bone shattering height. Vibrations rumbled in Citrus' body, and dirt clouds entered her nose, mouth and eyes. She coughed and sneezed while her eyes watered.

From the cracked earth, she arose and saw Poinsiet blinking to regain her vision. Stalking, she prepared, and when Poinsiet turned around, the assassin chomped at her neck. Poinsiet swung her paw against Citrus' head. Citrus adjusted into a mount.

Poinsiet pushed at her, but Citrus kept the neck grip. Gasping, Poinsiet capitulated. Citrus released, and rushed to the obstacle course.

Poinsiet chased after.

Citrus took no time guessing the range. Her wild leaps cost her as she almost overshot one, and undershot to the point of scraping herself up a platform. In thirty seconds, she got to the penultimate pillar. Weight fell onto her back. A coyote put fangs at her throat.

Citrus twisted around. She controlled her breathing, as she aimed her strikes at Poinsiet's eyes and throat. One, two, three, four... Poinsiet poked Citrus' eye. Citrus released a primal yell before grappling Poinsiet.

Poinsiet slapped at her sides. Citrus flung her five feet into the air, before Citrus dropped to her back. Poinsiet's core landed on Citrus' legs, deflating her. Citrus smacked her side. Poinsiet fell overboard. Whump.

Citrus sat, collected herself. A few more feet.

Citrus took the last bound. Both front paws landed, scratching at the surface. Her hindquarters hung with her bottom feet scraping the sides.

She swung herself, and with a desperate reach, grabbed a corner. One hand on the prize. Exhaustion and adrenaline warred in her body, the former taking control of her legs. Citrus hoisted the other arm up, but failed to catch anything.

The corner dug in. Blood leaked, and lubricated her hold. Citrus swung her backside around and got her paw on the other corner. Engaging her core, she got up.

She rolled onto her back as the announcer declared the win.

***

Swillow started at a disadvantage, because while her opponent came to fight, her mind focused on Wasting. Did Wasting suffer moral issues? Or did Wasting suffer from a lack of moral issues?

She caught sight of Talizarin in his glass window, reminded her of Syenna. Of the chase. How fear smelled like sour milk. If Talizarin made that scent... Dear Corruptor, she'd hunt him all night long for that scent. Almost as attractive as the scent of a horny male.

She lifted her head and saw a powerful, light brown frame. Khrystol. Khrystol who she trapped into this situation. Who might be fine without Swillow's involvement.

"Meet two wolves. Khrystol, my darling..." Swillow almost corrected Talizarin to call Khrystol a coyote, but Khrystol seemed too tall for a coyote. "We got along great, last time you were a gladiator. You were a champion, a hero to many." Talizarin laughed. "Too bad you abandoned us for something better. And on the other side is you. My best friend. Slaughterhound, who took out my big sister."

Talizarin sat back. "No longer will you terrorize us. I suppose you could win. Let me cut you a deal. Win the whole tournament, you get to run around Tandyar, licking your own privates, biting others, hunting down older sisters..."

Swillow tuned him out. She caught the gist of the rules - standard Vytyl rules of combat, with groin and eye strikes disallowed.

The bell rung.

Khrystol charged her.

Swillow knew Khrystol as a rival before, but accepted that Talizarin posed a bigger challenge than her. Swillow took a page from Wasting. She bit Khrystol's foreleg and circled around to pin Khrystol's arm to her back. Khrystol collapsed to her side. Swillow's jaws squeezed, pressure steadfast, but not painful.

Khrystol slapped Swillow, forcing disengagement. The queen popped onto four feet and scratched Swillow across the eye.

Swillow whipped her head back. "Bitch! Stop trying to fight!" Fresh blood oozed from her eyelid. The scratch burned, itched.

Khrystol somersaulted against Swillow's legs, like a bowling ball to pins. Swillow tripped. Khrystol bit Swillow's tail. Swillow kicked back, but Khrystol did a death roll, twisting the tail like a piece of rope.

Swillow grunted and clawed the ground, trying to get back to all fours. Khrystol released, then lunged for Swillow's throat. A black paw knocked her away.

Swillow told Khrystol, "Now, are you going to listen to me? I'm sure we can get out of here if we try to find a way-"

Khrystol stomped the ground and two earth projectiles shot at Swillow. Swillow ducked, but Khrystol tackled her.

Swillow budged a centimeter. Khrystol's eyes widened as she re-examined Swillow's girth.

The Slaughterhound howled and flames swirled around her. Swillow locked on, charged at Khrystol. Khrystol summoned a ramp. Swillow ran up it and flew overhead. Khrystol conjured a wall, in Swillow's path, and Swillow countered by flipping around, paws landing on it.

Swillow dropped to the ground. During descent, she shot fireballs which Khrystol barricaded against with a crystal wall. Swillow's heat turned the sand to glass.

Khrystol tapped her protective barrier, shooting it towards Swillow.

Swillow charged at it, and broke it in twain with her body. Khrystol's eyes widened, and Swillow collided with her shoulder. Khrystol fell onto her side.

The former queen limped away. Swillow licked her teeth, and stared at the coyote's bottom. Well, she wasn't going to have many chances at a queen, right?

Swillow went for the Bitter End, but Khrystol bucked her in the eyes. This exacerbated the previous pain.

Still, Swillow could smell Khrystol's scent. Swillow whipped up flames. Rushed blindly. A pillar rose underneath Khrystol, and Swillow hit headfirst, knocking her onto her behind.

Khrystol frog splashed onto Swillow, drawing Swillow's breath out. Khrystol repeated by summoning two more pillars and jumping off them onto Swillow.

The count reached eight before Swillow popped onto all fours. Khrystol shouted in disbelief.

Swillow thought about the final attack. Instead, she faced the audience. "This has gone on far enough. This isn't a willing match. How can you stand there when your king is actively exploiting others!?"

But the audience had reactions of shrugging, shaking their heads, or even booing her.

Khrystol bucked Swillow between the legs, causing her to crumple up. The audience cheered. Swillow tried slapping back, but Khrystol bit down at Swillow's neck, and Swillow tapped out on Khrystol's cheek, defeated.

Swillow's Theme: Bitter End

I'm drowning, in the depths

Still dreaming, faintly for

A chance of evil's birth

With open, eyes I see

The darkness, encroaching

And twisted, fantasies

But how am I living?

Because I've got a lot of pain to bring

Until I make him sing

Because to break a carnival of smoke

I smash the mirrors broke

Because I fight against pretend

Until the bitter end!