CHAPTER 1O: ART OF WAR

"This battle for succession will be unlike any that our fathers, grandfathers, and great-grandfathers have witnessed," the commentator declared. "For the first time, our king still breathes, and with his own eyes, he shall witness his successor!"

The spectators already knew the truth, their king was a madman.

"And now, without further ado, the opening event!" The announcer's voice boomed through the colosseum. "The mighty King of Colossals, the great Titus himself, versus the King of Beasts, the very last of its kind, the novenary-headed Hydra!"

It was madness. The sheer absurdity of it rang through my mind, the outcome as clear as day. I had read of the Hydra before. A beast with nine heads, poisonous blood, and a body some believed to be immortal. No Colossal had ever managed to kill one. Any who had dared cross its path had never returned, even the greatest warriors had fallen,it wasn't going extinct because the Hydra was hunted but because they were no longer reproducing.

Its blood burned like molten fire, capable of melting bone. And when a head was severed, another would take its place. There was simply no way my father would survive this battle.

Then, before the stunned silence of the crowd, Titus leapt from the very top of the colosseum. He landed with impossible grace, unscathed. An ordinary Colossal would have shattered bones or died on impact, but my father was no ordinary man. He was the mighty Titus. He wore no armor, only elaborate robes, and in his grip was the massive sword that never left his side in the throne room.

The gates of the colosseum groaned as they lifted. And from the darkness, a nightmare emerged.

The Hydra.

The moment it stepped into the light, it roared, a deafening, bone-chilling sound that echoed through the arena. One of its heads lashed out, devouring the Colossal who had raised the gate.

That was when I knew what true fear was.

Then it charged.

And in the blink of an eye—

Father stood still, his left hand clutching the Hydra's massive heart.

The beast lay dead in the dust, its body sprawled motionless. His sword, slick with Hydra's blood, began to melt away. The last of its kind, extinct.

Titus leapt back to his throne at the top of the colosseum as the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers.

I couldn't believe my eyes. A Colossal wielding such power? Perhaps the legends had not been exaggerating after all.

The announcer's voice cut through the deafening roar of the spectators.

"Did you all witness what your king has just accomplished? This battle for succession will be a spectacle indeed! And now, for the main event!" He paused, drawing out the moment. "The son of the beautiful Caitriona, our second queen, young Prince Keane! Versus… a half, no, perhaps a quarter, of a Colossal. Tiny!"

The crowd burst into laughter as if the announcer had delivered the greatest joke of all time.

Even a mere announcer mocked a candidate who might one day be his king.

They all expected me to lose.

My heart pounded violently, but I clutched Xanthe's earring. As long as I had it, I stood a chance.

The arena was cleared, and another Colossal lifted the gate. Keane entered first, clad in gleaming armor, basking in the cheers of the crowd. I had been granted none. They claimed I was too small for any to fit.

Keane flexed for the spectators, reveling in their approval. The cheers grew louder.

Then, the battle began.

A fight to the death.

If I wanted to live, I had to kill my own brother.