All Chapters of Game of Alpha; Battle for supremacy: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

JamesJames stared into the fire in the hearth, the flames reflected in his amber eyes.Rage simmered inside James like a volcano on the verge of eruption. His breath came in heavy, uneven bursts as he stormed back into his hut. The old floorboards groaned beneath his furious steps. He yanked open a wooden chest, grabbing his satchel and stuffing it with supplies, bread, dried meat, a dagger, a flask of water. His hands trembled with fury as he tightened the straps.The images of his dream, the murder, the fire, the screaming, were no longer just haunting shadows. They were memories. His memories.“They slaughtered my parents,” he spat through clenched teeth. “Enslaved my people. Burned my home. And I’ve been sitting here, waiting.”He threw the satchel over his shoulder and turned toward the door with blazing eyes.The wizard appeared in the doorway like a ghost, silent and stern. “You can’t go to Bloodthorn like this,” he said.James didn’t stop walking. “Try and stop me.”“You’ll be

The court gathering was thick with tension, an unspoken storm brooding beneath formal expressions and stiff nods. Lord Varek’s jaw was locked, his eyes dark with suppressed fury as he sat opposite James. They hadn’t spoken, but their silence said enough. James could feel Varek's hate like heat rising off stone.Draven stood and raised his hand. “Enough of the long stir, my friends,” he said with a lazy smirk. “We all want the same thing,to keep the slaves in chains and this kingdom running strong.”His voice rang through the hall.“Varek, for now, James will be in charge of the slave camps. At first light, take him with you. Show him the grounds. Introduce him as their new lord. Let them know their chains are still secure.”James didn’t blink. Varek, on the other hand, looked like he might combust.“This meeting is dismissed,” Draven said, with a wave.The camp was already bustling. Slaves lined up in rags, weak but obedient, their “tasks”, baskets of crops, dried meats, laid at their

James returned from the slave camp long after the sun had dipped behind the mountains. His body ached with fatigue. Sweat clung to his skin, and his muscles burned with the strain of yet another grueling day pretending to be someone he wasn’t. His stomach growled, empty and restless, twisting painfully as if gnawing at itself from within. He hadn't eaten since morning, and now he felt like he could devour an entire roast beast if it stood in his path.But strangely, for the first time in weeks, James didn’t return in a storm of fury or pain. Tonight was different. His heart beat not from rage but from something he hadn’t felt in years, fascination. Something, or rather someone, had occupied his thoughts entirely. A certain slave girl with fire in her spirit and defiance in her gaze.Sara.Her image flared in his mind with startling clarity, the messy strands of her hair clinging to her cheeks, the bruise on her neck refusing to hide her beauty, the way her eyes burned when she looked

The prison reeked of blood, rot, and forgotten souls.Chains clanked in the distance. Water dripped from somewhere unseen, the sound rhythmic, taunting. The deeper they dragged Sara into the underbelly of the Bloodthorn fortress, the colder the air became, like she was being swallowed whole by the very earth.Her arms were limp, her legs too weak to carry her. Her skin was smeared with dirt and dried blood, but still she refused to cry out. The guards yanked her like an animal, iron grips bruising her flesh as they hauled her down the final set of stone steps into the dungeon reserved only for traitors and enemies of the Alpha.The cell door groaned open.Without warning, the butt of a spear slammed into her spine.She fell hard, a cry escaping her lips before she could bite it back. The filthy stone floor tore into her already bleeding knees. Her chin struck the ground with a sickening crack.“Teach her what happens to loudmouth slaves,” one guard snarled, retrieving a whip from a ru

The dungeon was alive with silence.Not the peaceful kind, but the thick, oppressive silence that pressed against the ears until it felt like a weight on the skull. The only sound came from a slow, rhythmic drip… drip… drip of water falling from the stone ceiling into a puddle near the far wall. The stench of rusted iron, mold, and the faint metallic tang of dried blood hung in the air.Sara sat on the cold stone floor, her knees pulled up to her chest, shackles cutting into the raw skin of her wrists. The iron bit into her every time she shifted. She had stopped fighting the pain hours ago. There was no point. Dawn would come soon enough.And dawn meant death.She lowered her head, trying to shut her mind off, when it came again.That voice.It was not the kind of voice that passed through ears—it was a vibration that slid straight into her chest, calm but unyielding, like still water hiding impossible depths.“Be courageous, Sara. Very soon, a song of freedom and rejoicing will be h