Gatekeepers Book 1: Darkness

What an idiot. Draycos shook his head in mild disappointment as Brock rushed towards him.

The Prisoners’ Games. An annual combat tournament between prisoners that have passed an assessment exam to weed out the weak. Whoever came out on top of this publicly viewed event earned the right to perform community service for the dragons, allowing the winner to leave the prison. In Draycos’s case, however, he would be allowed to assist in helping the dragons recovered the stolen relic known as the Orb of the First King, whatever that was. He still hasn’t been told about the thing, even though Draycos spent two whole months in prison over its disappearance.

Draycos was already fighting in the very first match of the games, against the one prisoner he had any sort of connection to. He didn’t believe a word of what that announcer said about matches being decided at random; he doesn’t believe in coincidences this big.

Last time Brock and Draycos fought, it was Draycos’s very first day in the prison. Draycos ended up with three broken ribs and a ruptured stomach, and Brock got off with a broken nose that was still crooked to this day. Back then, he had seemed much more intimidating than he appeared to be now. But that’s probably because Draycos had become much stronger over the last month, training with Zero.

Brock was right on top of him now, but Draycos still didn’t move an inch. He had been getting the music started in his head which allowed him to kick things up a notch in battle. Brock put both hands together above his head and brought them down towards Draycos’s head, just like the last time they fought. Draycos played things differently this time, though, and instead of jumping to the side, he lightly took a step back and avoided the blow, which smashed the ground where he had been standing less than a second ago into rubble. Before Brock could lift his hands off the ground, Draycos stepped on them with his right foot and cocked back his arm before landing a solid punch right on Brock’s nose. Once again, Draycos felt Brock’s nose break under his fist, and blood splattered on Draycos’s fist and Brock’s face.

Back up in the top box where Theravor and the Dragon Council observed the battles, Reothand and Poseidon entered the room. Theravor turned around and looked at them, raising his eyebrow in a silent question.

Poseidon shook his aged, golden head and stroked his beard. “We didn’t find anyone in the magical maintenance room, but we did find evidence that the lottery-system spell used to randomly determine matchups had been tampered with. All the crystal ball surveillance cameras had been smashed, as well.”

Reothad groaned, covering his face with his left hand. “None of the guards openly admitted to seeing anything, either,” he added to Poseidon’s statement. “My hunch says someone with the Shadow Strikers may be involved in this.”

Several sets of eyebrows shot up at the mention of the Shadow strikers. “The Shadow Strikers is that group of assassins-for-hire, correct?” Vinzgar questioned. “Why would they be involved in this?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Theravor asked, looking down at the fight below. The fight started off pretty much the same way as the fight two months ago, from what Poseidon had told him. All eyes in the room rested on him before he went on.

“Someone out there wants Draycos dead.”

Back in the arena, Brock howled in pain from having his nose broken for a second time. He attempted to cover his nose with his hands, but Draycos still had both hands pinned to the ground under his foot.

“B-bastard!” Brock hissed, glaring at Draycos with hatred in his eyes. “How dare you break my nose not once, but twice?! I’m gonna make sure you regret that!”

Draycos was unperturbed by this statement, and just looked at Brock with an almost bored expression on his face. He sighed, then exerted some pressure on Brock’s hands with his foot, breaking a few of his fingers.

“You know, you were a lot stronger last time we fought,” Draycos commented amid Brock’s cries of pain. “What happened to you?”

“What was that?!” Enraged, Brock managed to manipulate his hands enough that he was able to get a grip around Draycos’s ankles. With a wicked grin, Brock lifted Draycos up in the air and threw him through the air. Draycos rotated in the air and landed on both feet, unharmed, but Brock had already closed the distance between them, prepared to land a series of punches on Draycos’s body. He started throwing a barrage of blows at close range.

Draycos avoided them all, spinning on the balls of his feet to dodge, changing the direction of his rotation each time he avoided a punch by lightly tapping Brock’s fists when they were close enough. Brock slowed down for a second a few moments after the exchange began, and Draycos took advantage of the opportunity to throw his left elbow into Brock’s abdomen. He felt one of Brock’s ribs crack from the blow. Brock’s attacks ceased as he fell to his knees, clutching his stomach with both hands and coughing up blood.

“Wha...what happened?” Brock wheezed, spitting up more blood with each word. “When did...you get this...strong?”

“You think I’m strong?” Draycos cocked his head to the side, surprised by the statement. “I don’t think I’m all that strong, though. It’s just that... well, compared to fighting dragons, you really aren’t much at all.”

A heavy silence hung in the air as the audience watched the fight in silent amazement. No human should be overpowering an orc to this degree, not even a half breed. Many of them couldn’t process what they had witnessed and just sat there with their mouths wide open.

Theravor sniggered after hearing Draycos’s comment. “The boy does have a point,” he chuckled, covering his mouth with a hand. “Dragons are by far the strongest creatures in this world, and he had been sparring with Zero for a solid month with weighted clothing on. Compared to that, this orc isn’t a challenge at all.”

Just then, the hair on the back of Draycos’s neck prickled and stood on end. Eyes wide in surprise, Draycos instinctively ducked his head just in time to avoid a spiky metal object flying through the space his head had occupied a mere moment before. It landed on the ground in front of Brock, and Draycos got a good look at it before Brock picked it up and got back to his feet, another wicked smile on his face.

It was a weapon known as a morning star, a metal ball the size of a beach ball covered in savage spikes attached to a handle via a chain. Draycos tched as Brock raised the weapon above his head and started swinging it around at high speeds. Poseidon had warned him that the audience could provide support to fighting prisoners by throwing weapons or other items into the ring. The Dragon Council made a lot of money from this public event, and they wanted to make sure those who had bets placed would all have a more equal chance at winning some money. From the look on Brock’s face, this was a weapon he was extremely familiar with, so one of his friends on the outside of the prison may have been in the crowd and thrown it in to support him. The winner of the games did get to leave the prison to perform community service, after all; there was always the slight possibility that they could escape somehow, no matter how slim.

His savage smile wide as his face, Brock let the tip of the morning star go flying. It went straight for Draycos, who dodged to the side. However, the weapon then became shrouded in a pale red aura. While still in midair, it changed its trajectory and went after Draycos once more. Caught off guard by this, Draycos could do nothing as the spiked metal ball smashed into his back, embedding itself deeply in his flesh.