Gatekeepers Book 2: Galeforce

The wind ruffled Draycos’s hair as he flew counterclockwise around the outer edge of the arena. He felt absolutely exhilarated.

This feels way different from just riding on one of my conjurations. The thrill from flying on your own power...I could easily get addicted to this.

The shape of the wing Draycos conjured over his right arm was identical to that of the dragon he had fought during the end of the assessment exam. Draycos himself had no idea why he chose this particular shape; it was just the first thing that came to mind when he thought of wings. Draycos glanced over at the wing he had conjured.

Guess that dragon did leave a lasting impression on me after all. Draycos shook his head to rid it of unnecessary thoughts. Well, at least I survived the fall, so that’s some good news. But how am I going to fight now that I’ve used up the last of my magic?

“Hey, Draycos!” a voice yelled from somewhere to Draycos’s right. “Heads up!”

Startled by the sudden voice, Draycos looked up at the lip of the wall and saw a young boy dressed in sand-colored desert robes and a blue turban waving at him a little farther down the length of the wall. It was the same kid who was the first to cheer for him after he won the first match. The kid chucked something over the edge of the wall as hard as he could.

It was a small curved scimitar, the same type of weapon Draycos favored, but it was much smaller, obviously made for the boy. It was exactly like the swords you’d see desert bandits waving in the air in those old cartoons or television shows. The hilt was wrapped in brown leather, and the gold guard curved from the bottom of the hilt all the way back to the top, tipped off with a golden four-leaf clover at the end of the guard. It’s overall appearance gave Draycos the impression that the blade was a scimitar but the rest of the weapon was from a rapier.

Raising his left hand, Draycos caught the small scimitar by the handle and waved at the kid as he flew past him, ascending higher into the air. “Thanks a lot!” he shouted. “I really needed this!”

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

Draycos glanced over in the direction where the voice came from and was surprised to see Theravor standing up from his throne, both hands on the window still in front of him as he glared at Draycos. The other dragons in the top box stared at the king, taken aback by this sudden loss of composure.

“Don’t take your eyes off of what’s in front of you when you’re flying!” Theravor roared, gripping the stone in both hands so tightly that it cracked. “Watch where you’re going!”

“Huh?” Draycos turned to face forward only to smack face-first into the pale purple barrier wall the instant he did so. The entire coliseum vibrated from the impact, and Draycos slowly slid to the ground several dozen feet below.

“That idiot....” Theravor groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

“Did he actually...?” Vinzgar started.

“Yup,” Zero answered.

“Draycos actually flew into the wall,” Boreta sighed, shaking her head. “Honestly, he should know well enough to watch where he’s going....”

Damrabe and Drax started laughing as Poseidon stared in shock, his jaw literally on the floor. Daiken and a few others showed mild interest in the event, while everyone else just sighed, hoping such an incident wouldn’t delay the games any longer.

Reothad, on the other hand, had a completely different reaction from everyone else. His right hand, which had been up in front of his face, slowly fell to his side, trembling slightly. A glint of sunlight reflected off the small blue Leyscope he held in his hand. He watched with a stiff expression on his face as Draycos gradually got on his hands and knees.

“Oww....” Draycos groaned, shaking his head as he stood up. “Remind me to never fly without keeping my eyes on the sky.” He bent over and picked up the scimitar that had fallen to the ground and looked around. He wiped his bleeding nose on his sleeve. “Where did Balara go?”

“Right here,” a voice behind him answered. Surprised, Draycos turned around and saw Balara towering over him, an expression of mixed anger and joy on his face as he glared at Draycos, tail twitching.

Damn it all! When did he get behind me?! I never heard him coming!

Balara’s right hand shot out. Draycos tried to dodge it, but wasn’t completely successful as the dragon managed to catch his left arm. Balara’s large hand slammed into the wall behind Draycos’s back, pinning Draycos’s arm in place. Draycos gritted his teeth against the pain. His arm wasn’t broken yet, but it almost was.

“Finally,” Balara huffed, squatting down so his snout was right in Draycos’s face. “That took much longer than I would’ve ever dreamed, but I finally caught you. Can’t do anything now, can you? You’re all out of magic!”

Draycos said nothing and glared at Balara. He threw a kick aimed at Balara’s jaw, but the dragon merely moved his right thumb and blocked the attack.

“I never thought a human would present such a challenge for me,” Balara went on as Draycos continued to struggle. “It really has been entertaining this time around. In fact, I enjoyed myself so much, I’m willing to cut a deal with you.”

Draycos stopped fighting at these words and raised an eyebrow. “You’re willing to make a deal with me, even though you’re a dragon supremacist?”

“There’s no denying the fact that dragons are the strongest creatures in this world. All the other races are nothing more than bugs to us, especially the humans, who are the weakest of the bunch.” Balara increased the pressure he exerted on Draycos’s arm ever so slightly, but it was enough to make Draycos grimace. “However, it would also be foolish to ignore someone of your caliber solely because you’re a human half-breed. Nobody knows what the other half of your heritage is; for all we know, you could very well be half dragon.”

Something Balara said perked Draycos’s interest. How does he know about my other half being unknown? I thought there were only a little over a dozen high-ranking dragons that knew about that! Does he have friends in high places?

“Swear your loyalty to me right now,” Balara demanded in a very low growl. “Promise that you’ll follow me once I escape this wretched place, and I’ll give you the match. Sounds like a great deal, right?”

“Nope.” Draycos answered simply, shaking his head. “Don’t want to.”

“Do you think you’re in a position to refuse me?” Balara growled. “I can put you through all kinds of hell without breaching any rules set in the games. I won’t give you another chance if you refuse again--!”

Draycos took the opportunity to spit right into Balara’s open mouth as the dragon spoke. Enraged, Balara’s round pupils suddenly became slitted, and he pressed down on Draycos’s arm with all his might, destroying the wall in the process. For the first time since coming to this world, Draycos screamed in agony as his arm was mangled. The scream echoed throughout the coliseum.

Theravor gripped the window still so hard that the already cracked stone instantly turned to powder. A low, dangerous growl filled the top box as each of Theravor’s scales slightly rose from his body, like a cat with its tail puffed up. Everyone sitting near his position grew alarmed and quickly got up and put distance between themselves and Theravor. Theravor’s son, Drax, calmly stood up and placed a hand on his father’s shoulder. Theravor’s tense body softened slightly at the touch.

“Father, please, calm down,” Drax growled. “We all understand how you feel right now, but the Dragon King shouldn’t let his emotions get the best of him, right? You’ve been saying that for decades, so prove it to us right now.”

Theravor eventually took several deep breaths, his scales lowering as he began to regain his composure. He sighed and glanced over at Drax.

“Thanks for that; I needed to hear those words.”

Drax nodded, then returned his gaze to where Draycos was pinned to the wall, a serious expression on his face as he stood next to his father. “I don’t believe I’ve seen Balara go as far as tormenting his opponents like this. The last five years, he’s made it to the finals with completely one-sided victories, and then surrendered in the finals. He must be irritated about having to put real effort in a match against a human.”

Another one of Draycos’s screams rang out. Drax and Theravor both flinched at the sound. Zero stood behind them, peering down at Draycos through the gap between the dragons’ shoulders.

“Come on, Draycos,” he muttered softly. “Do something....”

Draycos’s head hung low as he stared at the ground, gasping for air. He barely had the sense to even breath right now; the pain from his left arm was excruciating.

Damn it all. I got nothing left to fight with now. I might be able to throw one more Dragon Impact if I concentrate what little magic I have left... A flashback of Poseidon reprimanding Draycos after the second round flashed through his head. I’ll probably get on death’s door again if I did that, though. But it would be better to take that risk than to spend the rest of my life in prison. Still, even if I could pull off another spell, I can’t reach the pressure point if Balara has my arm pinned like this.

Draycos glanced over to his left. Balara’s hand completely covered his arm, so he couldn’t see the damage, but a fair amount of blood was running down the ruined rock wall. A dangerous idea suddenly surfaced in Draycos’s mind, and he actually laughed out loud at the thought.

Balara, caught off guard by Draycos’s sudden laughter, eased off the pressure on Draycos’s arm, albeit only slightly. He looked at Draycos as if he’d gone mad.

“Are you actually laughing right now? Do you not realize how badly damaged your arm is now? Even with that half-breed dragon’s restoration magic, you’ll most likely have permanent damage. It’ll be better to just sever it and regrow a new one.”

“That’s right,” Draycos responded, still laughing. Moving his right hand, Draycos positioned the small scimitar he held in it so that the edge rested atop his right shoulder. “If it’s that bad, then I should just ditch it.”

Balara’s eyes widened in shock. “You wouldn’t,” he hissed, a hint of worry in his voice. “You don’t have the guts to do that.”

“Don’t underestimate me!” Draycos suddenly shouted. “I’ve exhausted all the sane possibilities I could think of! So now that I’m out of those, I’ll take a chance on an insane possibility!” With those words, Draycos pressed the blade down on his left shoulder with all the strength he could muster.

The weapon was apparently one of good quality, because it sliced through Draycos’s flesh and bones quite easily. Blood sprayed out of the wound as the arm was completely severed. The pain was excruciating; it felt like something was pressing a white-hot iron against the inside of his forehead, threatening to knock Draycos out cold. Draycos gritted his teeth against the pain, refusing to let a single sound escape past his lips.

Some of the blood from the wound splashed into Balara’s eyes, blinding him. With a startled cry, Balara removed his hand from the wall and furiously rubbed his eyes with both hands, trying to remove the blood from them. Draycos didn’t miss a beat. Throwing the scimitar aside, he focused what scrapes of magic power he had left into his right fist, spiking his concentration as much as he could. Though his brown hair didn’t change again, his right pupil turned from brown to a deep blue.

“Thanks for squatting down to see eye to eye with me,” Draycos commented. “You put yourself in range of this last attack!”

“No, stop it!” Balara roared, squinting out of one eye. “I will not be bested by anyone, let alone someone like--!”

Draycos took a big step forward and swung his right fist back as far as it would go. He threw it before Balara could even stand up or get out of his range.

“Dragon Impact!”

The punch landed on target, right in between Balara’s eyes. Balara’s roars were cut off as his hands fell to his sides. With a loud groan, Balara toppled over backwards, his eyes rolled to the back of his head.