The Leviathan

Chapter One

"Kill him!"

"End it!"

The bets were thrown. The ground shook with the screams of thousands of people. They called him the Viper, the strongest bare-knuckled fighter to ever enter the contest to become a Huntsmen. And in front of him, a young teenager knelt with his face to the ground, blood dripping to the dirt.

The kid had posed the biggest threat to the Viper's dominance since he'd started fighting. People were even dubbing the boy as the Viper's one weakness, the one who'd end his legacy, the one who'd make him lose a fight for the first time in ten years. Well, not today. Today, the Viper showed who was the better fighter.

The boy looked up, smiling. A cut had opened just above his right eye, the blood drawing lines across his face. Yet he smiled, without a hint of fear.

He would kill him, the Viper decided. Right there and then. He raised a fist, the other hand holding the boy by his hair. Break his face until his respiratory system no longer worked.

The boy's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around the Viper's neck with a grip of a god. In one swift motion, as the Viper's hands lost strength momentarily, he threw the much larger man onto the ground, fracturing his skull in a mere instance. There was no fight, no battle.

Silence. Even those who'd bet on the teenager didn't think he'd end the Viper in a single second, after all that fighting.

The King stood, clapping slowly as the rest of the audience followed suit. It was the first time he'd stood for anyone, much less a dirty little boy hailing from the undergrounds of the city. Onaedia was a city defined by its prestige, its wealth, and this boy was anything but. Yet he had the entire royal court on their feet, the bloodied mess of a boy standing with his head bowed before the most powerful family in the North.

"The boy will serve me, and me alone. He will answer to no diplomat, to no Huntsmen, but only to me. He will be my blade, my wrath, the embodiment of my justice. Stand, Valethor."

Words that would bind Sage to the royal bloodline for his entire life. 

---

Nine.

The iron plates clanked against each other, the chains rattling screeching into the air.

Ten.

Sweat clouded his vision, the saltiness in his mouth as he spat on the ground. His arms burned, crying for the sweet release as he dropped to the ground, the weights slamming against the floor as he released the buckle around his waist. Silence, apart from the birds that were just beginning to wake from their slumber.

Sage took a deep breath, enjoying the morning air, the calmness of it all. There was something to be said for waking up way before the sun rose, he thought. Way before the rest of the world woke up, and forced him back into reality.

"Cheated your last rep."

Sage groaned as the cheery voice rang in from behind. "Morning, Maeve."

"Thought you agreed to train together more often." The girl sprang up beside Sage, annoyingly full of energy.

"Evening trainings. Not mornings - mornings are for myself." Sage threw a shirt on, hiding his impressive build inside a slightly oversized shirt. "Me time, as you called it."

Maeve chuckled as she helped him put back the weights. "Well, now that me time's over, maybe we could get in a little sparring? My body could use the activity."

Sage was already forming the word 'no', but Maeve was already stretching, her mischievous eyes glinting in the morning sun.

"I'll go slow, don't worry. Oh, and I won't use vampire energy, as usual." She grinned, as Sage sighed. He'd barely brushed himself off before Maeve leapt forward, her fist narrowly missing his face as he stepped to the side.