Novel & Cerita Bloodsoaked Champion

They look like art come to life, too perfect to be real. And with them, the champion. He's enormous—eight feet tall, built like a mountain, covered in intricate armor that seems made of living ice. His eyes glow silver, and power radiates from him in visible waves. "This is Frost, Champion of Winter," Titania announces. "He has fought for three thousand years. He has never been defeated." Connor steps forward. Compared to the champion, he looks tiny, mortal, fragile. "The rules are simple," Titania continues. "Fight until one of you cannot continue. No outside interference, no weapons beyond what you carry, no mercy."

As if the goabear was overflowing with power. The rhino man and a red robed man with a pair of daggers in his hands stepped in front of the mages. “We’ll handle this. You guys focus on taking out that snake.” Said the rhino man. “We’ll cover you.” Said the red robed man. The red robed man had a bronze coloured which meant he was Champion ranked. “I don’t need your help, by the way.” The red robed man said to the rhino man. “I know you can sense the others too. Sure you can beat them in time, but you can’t do that while covering for the others.”

The Bronk drops his body down to his fallen opponent, but somehow the fallen Cok manages to escape the massive orange elbow coming for his face. He turns the tables as fast as lightening flashing in the sky, by jumping to his feet. Before the kneeling Bronk can react, the Cok kicks him in the head, and we all go silent as he falls unconscious. "Commander Garlof is the last Champion standing. He has won this decade's Harvest," the Kea announcer says from somewhere off the field, and the crowd's silence evaporates. Loud screams and roars of approval shake the air around us as tournament assistants carry out the unconscious and injured champions. I look away from the winner to watch the Kea, wh

I let him do his thing… and he overdid it. “Are you ready for a rematch, people?! Well, strap up your sandals because this is going to be tough and scrumptious!” He voiced dramatically. “On one end, we have the Champion of the Reigns, and on the other, we have… uh, Anika, the.. the Blood Reaper — get it? ‘Cause she reaped blood from Ciril’s belly yesterday? Haha.” “Okay, no… So, these two will be going head to head and they will battle until there is nothing but one winner left, who will stand triumphantly and be—”

As she shook her head to clear the dizziness, a thick, dark stream of crimson blood suddenly began rushing out from both of her nostrils, staining her lips and chin. A thrilling, freezing chill traveled straight down my spine at the sight. It was a cold, dark wave of absolute satisfaction that made my heart race with wicked joy. I had actually broken her perfect face. Her guards immediately panicked, frantically pulling out white handkerchiefs from their pockets and pressing them against her face, trying to stop the bleeding. They kept wiping and cleaning the mess, but the crimson fluid just kept soaking through the cloth. The entire surrounding crowd of hundreds of warriors stood completely

His shadow gave away his next attack and I was able to swerve myself before his shoe came down on me again. Almost there. My hand caught the head of the sword at the same moment he got hold of my ankle. The excess blood soaked through the material that was used to cover it. It fell out of my grip but I gathered it again in both hands fast enough. Somehow, during its fall, the clothing protecting the hilt had fallen off also and I was holding the weapon with bloodied bare hands. That made it more slippery but I would not let it go again. I held it with both hands.

The machine-wolf shrieked, its body seizing as its own armor cooked it from the inside out. "He’s a battery, Thorne!" I yelled over the roar of the wind. "Every time your lapdog hits him, he’s hitting himself with ten thousand volts!" Richard didn't wait for the shock to fade. He moved with a speed he shouldn't have had. He tackled the champion. Another arc. Another scream. The smell of burning fur and ozone filled the circle. The champion tried to pull away. Its silver plates were glowing now, heated by the resistance. It was a furnace strapped to its own skin.

He didn't reply, forcing me to peer into those unreadable eyes and drink him in. “Is this from the blood oath?” I tried again. He shook his head, leaning into my touch like an obedient pet. His eyes were trained on me, as if challenging me to a gaze holding standoff. “No.” He said after a few minutes. He turned his other hand where a small scar marred his palm. “This is it.” “While this,” He said and his hand connected with mine which was still clinging to his face. My heart beat tripled. He continued effortlessly. “This Happened in a fight many years back.”