"I never was a praying man... but for her, let my knees touch the ground a thousand times in worship."
Born with the blood and darkness of the ocean god Cin, the Queen of the Black Seas must finish what her father started: Find Cin's Obelisk in the...
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The world erupts into chaos.
Everything is a blur; a mixture of pale skin and crimson stain. Starved cries of the crowd bounce off grime smudged walls. Hectic screams of the ringmaster break into the putrid smell of poverty in the air.
This sin infested domain is my sanctuary.
Blood pounds in my ears, the dark liquid slowly seeping from my broken nose and spreading across my lips. Hot. Sticky. My body is numb as I move atop the stained canvas. The only sign of the pain to come is the skin split on my knuckles. The blood is already beginning to clot. Each breath I take is short and uneven, due to my bruised ribs from his vicious blows.
My opponent has taken quite a few hits himself and still hasn't wavered an inch. In the dull lighting, his eyes dart once more to my ribs.
"Come on!" My roar is answered. He shoots forward and I shift my weight to the left, narrowly avoiding a gut punch. Sudden pain ricochets through my sternum, the air in my lungs stolen from a sneaky jab to my rib cage. It is a pain I am far too used to.
A rib has broken.
Taking a few steps back to regain balance, I grit my teeth against the pain, foot stopping nearing the edge of the tainted canvas. The blood of many before me streaks across its stained face in an unique form of art. Soot covered faces surround my ankles, eager, hungry, and I look up to focus on the beast stalking me. His chapped lips spread in a toothless grin. With one hand on my aching ribs, I steady myself.
He launches and I swivel to the side, throwing a painful right hook. A sickening crack of finality echoes amongst the roar of cheers. My fist cuts into his thick neck. Something crucial has shattered inside.
Victorious shivers slide down my spine.
Something clicks in my mind. A deep, barely sated rage that begs me to unleash hell. Flexing my discolored hands, I lick at the blood in my mouth before spitting it at his fallen body. The crowd jeers while some leap onto the platform to play nurse, though no true medics come to these.
With fragile self control, I turn away, sliding off the canvas and into the throng of people pushing forward for a better view.
I don't get very far. "Sire--"
"Go home, Pitts."
The small man gasps, stepping into the dull light and wrinkling his nose under a red rag. His stout legs go into overtime as he tries to keep up with me. When I finally stop to snatch my shirt off of the back of a chair, Pitts sighs in relief. "I'll go when you do."
