Chapter 22: Sin of Arrogance
The Crucible was silent.
Not the breathless silence of awe.
Not the hush of fear.
It was the silence of sharpened knives hidden behind cloaks,
the silence before floodgates break,
the silence of a thousand men waiting for blood to spill.
---
I stepped onto the ruined boards, boots creaking against the dried blood and splintered wood.
Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the very arena tried to suck me into the bones it had devoured.
Across from me, Caelis Drayne waited.
A black monolith of iron and hate.
---
His armor was scuffed, battered, but his stance betrayed no weakness.
Sword loose in one hand, the other flexing slightly, as if already preparing to tear me apart with bare fingers if necessary.
---
The bell above the tower tolled once.
A deep, ugly sound that settled into the bones of every man watching.
---
Caelis moved first.
---
No testing blows.
No cautious circling.
He surged forward like a landslide, sword arcing down toward my shoulder with brutal, ugly strength.
---
I stepped aside — barely.
The blade howled past me, splitting the air, and bit into the boards where I had stood an instant before.
Splinters exploded outward.
The ground shuddered.
---
I didn't try to counter immediately.
That was what he wanted —
a clash of raw power.
He was bigger.
Heavier.
Stronger.
---
I breathed.
Low.
Slow.
Measured.
Let the Fourth Fang coil inside me, held in check for now.
---
Caelis recovered faster than I liked, ripping his sword free of the shattered boards with a snarl.
His aura flared — golden, cracked with veins of black, like a dying sun fighting to stay alive.
---
The pressure hit me like a wall of heat.
---
I gritted my teeth.
Stepped sideways.
Feinted low.
---
Caelis didn't bite.
He caught my blade with the flat of his own, twisted, shoved hard.
---
Pain sparked up my wrist.
I rolled with it, spinning away.
A shallow cut opened across my left forearm — shallow, but bleeding.
---
The crowd gasped.
Not for me.
For him.
For the monster they had been promised.
---
Caelis pressed the attack.
Another brutal overhead slash.
I dodged.
Another.
I ducked under it, felt the edge kiss the top of my scalp, drawing blood.
---
He fought like a living siege engine — heavy, unstoppable, battering.
But not stupid.
Every move calculated to pin me, corral me, exhaust me.
---
I gave ground carefully.
Footsteps measured.
Breath burning in my lungs.
Sword a whisper in my hands, not a hammer.
---
He tried to catch me in a corner, backing me against a cracked pillar.
I slid sideways again, cutting a shallow line across his thigh as I passed.
---
Blood sprayed.
Dark, heavy.
Caelis barely flinched.
---
He turned on me faster than I expected.
A backhanded blow — sword moving almost too fast for its size.
I parried —
—felt the impact jar through my entire frame.
My knees buckled.
---
Pain lanced up my side.
Something cracked.
A rib, maybe two.
---
The world narrowed.
Breath.
Blood.
Steel.
---
Caelis smiled.
---
It wasn't a wide smile.
Not a cruel one.
It was the cold, simple smile of a man who believed the end was already written.
Who believed my grave was already dug.
---
I straightened slowly.
Raised my sword again.
Let him see the blood on my teeth when I smiled back.
---
Come, then.
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He came.
---
A low thrust for my gut.
A brutal upward slash.
A heavy stomp meant to crush my foot and leave me rooted.
---
I moved.
Sidestep.
Parry.
Slip.
Twist.
Every motion burning, screaming.
---
I waited.
I waited.
---
Then he overreached.
---
Just a fraction.
Just enough.
---
I slipped inside his guard, driving my shoulder into his chest.
Felt the impact through both our bodies.
---
He stumbled half a step.
Half a heartbeat.
---
I breathed deep.
Pulled.
Released.
---
Fourth Fang.
---
My aura flared around me —
—not golden.
—not silver.
Something sharp.
Something raw.
Something that burned clean through the cracks in his power.
---
The boards cracked beneath my feet.
The air sang with compressed force.
---
My sword moved.
---
Not a wide, flashy arc.
A short, savage cut aimed for the fault line I had seen hours ago — the thin seam at the wrist joint of his armor.
---
Steel met flesh.
Met bone.
Met will.
---
There was a sound.
Half a scream, half a roar, cut short as Caelis staggered back.
---
His sword dropped to the ground with a hollow clang.
His right hand followed, spinning through the bloodstained air, severed cleanly at the wrist.
---
The Crucible gasped.
The sound was ugly, wet, human.
---
Caelis dropped to one knee.
Blood gushed from the stump of his arm, soaking the boards beneath him.
He clutched the wound with his remaining hand, face twisted not in pain — but in disbelief.
In rage.
---
I stood over him.
Sword dripping.
Breathing heavy.
Chest burning.
Vision tunneling.
---
I could have killed him.
Easily.
One more step.
One more cut.
---
But I didn't.
---
I lowered my sword.
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And spoke loud enough for everyone — the nobles, the soldiers, the spies — to hear.
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**"The sin of arrogance,"** I said, voice cold as broken glass, **"is thinking the world will bend because you demand it. The world bends for no man. It only sharpens its knives when you turn your back."**
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Caelis shuddered.
Whether from blood loss or humiliation, I didn't know.
Didn't care.
---
I turned my back on him.
Walked away.
---
The herald shouted something.
My name, maybe.
The title of victor, maybe.
I didn't hear it.
---
The blood roared too loud in my ears.
The world spun too slowly under my feet.
---
But I was still standing.
Still breathing.
Still carving my name into the bones of the world, one broken body at a time.
---
Behind me, the Crucible finally erupted into noise.
Not cheers.
Not celebration.
---
Whispers.
Sharp.
Furious.
Frightened.
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**Westenra.**
**The tiger cub that grew fangs.**
**The name the old families would not be able to bury anymore.**
---
The storm had started.
And I stood at its eye.