Preparation of the duel

“You look miserable,” Rage spoke, walking in. I didn't talk, just stared. He didn't waste his time on me; he moved.

“Don't just sit there, come and help me!” he said, walking out. I gathered every piece of energy left in me and walked out. My eyes ached, and so did my muscles.

I found his workers digging holes while he supervised them—not big, too small to fit a small-sized ball. I wondered what was in the mind of Rage this time.

For his house, a string of electricity was passed around. I knew it because I touched it when it passed me. But where was his right-hand man?

“Wait!” he commanded the men to stop.

“You can go in and rest. I'll take care of the remaining ones. Do not come out for your own safety,” he commanded. The workers seemed relieved, and from their facial expressions, you could tell they were used to it.

For a hunter, he had so many enemies. I could only imagine how many times his house had been raided.

“Come!” he commanded, and I started walking.

“Pick up that bag, plea