The challenge was a sudden and unexpected part of the party that no one could have seen coming, least of all the one who was challenged.

  Kenneth wanted to argue. To call the madness off, yet he had a feeling Jubo wouldn’t listen to reason. Not after drunk Kenneth had insulted him as he had.

  He could feel his stomach get cold as ice when he saw some of Solk’s men rearrange the table used for the drinking contest into a square ring.

  As soon as it was done, Jubo, with zero hesitation, jumped over the tables clad in his armor, never once breaking eye contact with Kenneth.

  “GET INSIDE!” Jubo growled as he pointed one clawed finger at Kenneth.

  “Wait, the battle cannot start yet!” Jinki yelled. “Ulric is not here. A challenge declared even in the name of Giga’s blood cannot commence without the outpost leader here to oversee it!”

  “That won’t be a problem, hunter,” A loud yet calm and tired voice sounded from across the room.

  All eyes fell upon Para as he casually walked through the crowd, no longer wearing his armor. Instead, all he was wearing was some fine and loose silk-looking clothes.

  “What are you doing here?!” Jubo demanded to know.

  “Well, I was off hunting, unable to find that fiery woman I sought, and when two lesser prey found me and offered themselves, I obliged,” Para laughed. “Yet I had come running when I heard screaming.”

  Jubo seemed all too disinterested in what Para had to say, yet Kenneth noticed for only a few moments when he wasn’t glaring at Kenneth, he glanced at Para with disdain.

  “Listen here, sir bodyguard, I don’t know what you're talking about, but only the commander can oversee this battle so--” Jinki interjected.

  “The commander or one of equal or higher standing, right Jukibi?” Para asked, peering past Jinki at Solk.

  “You are… correct. I can oversee this battle in place of the commander,” Solk responded with a conflicted expression.

  “Well, then get to it. Ask the challengee what weapon they should use, and let's get everything started,” Para said in a casual and impatient tone of voice.

  Even though Kenneth couldn’t understand or interpret each and every Aki facial, tail, and ear expression, it was clear for Kenneth to see Solk didn’t want to do this.

  He didn’t want to oversee a fight that could potentially end in the man who saved his son's life dying. Yet it was clear that he was a slave to Aki social and religious norms.

  “Hey, Solk,” Kenneth spoke. “You ain’t responsible in any way; this is my mess. I made with my drunken behavior.”

  “I understand,” Solk responded, his voice as conflicted as his expression’s.

  There was no getting out of it, just like the time he was forced to fight Zilika just to join the outpost. And just like that time, he had to win.

  With nervous trepidation hidden away by heavy and strong footsteps, Kenneth entered the ring, pushing a table aside to do so before it was promptly realigned.

  ‘I’m so gonna die,’ Kenneth thought as he watched Jubo twitch with what he guessed was anticipation.

  “As the challenged, you have the right to choose the weapons that will be used!” Solk said loudly for all to hear.

  “My hands haven’t failed me for now, so I’ll stick to them,” Kenneth responded.

  Solk looked at him for a short moment, looking like he wanted to say something, yet he stopped himself.

  “As you wish, the only weapon you’ll use in this battle is the ones you are born with!” Solk loudly declared for everyone to hear. “As you may know, the rules are simple--”

  “SKIP YOUR USELESS BLABBERING AND START THE FIGHT!” Jubo bellowed impatiently, looking either angrier and angrier with each passing moment or more mad.

  “Now that the weapon has been chosen, the fight will commence until one of the two surrenders falls unconscious or dies. I will, of course, be the overseer and the judge in this battle.”

  “May Giga grant the victor strength in this coming battle!” Solk finished, and the fight had officially begun.

  Already, Kenneth entered a defensive stance like a boxer as Jubo just stood there unmoving, his finger twitching as he watched. ‘I can’t make a mistake! Without the coat, I’m in serious trouble! But what the hell do I do!’

  ‘Should I rush him and try to catch him off guard?’ Even the thought of it upset Kenneth's stomach. Do no harm; that was the oath he swore, and yet once again, it was being tested like last time.

  ‘God, I have to be careful! They are so thin, even with armor, I could cause major orga--’

  In the blink of an eye, Jubo lunged at Kenneth before quickly jumping back as fast as he’d lunged.

  ‘What the?! Is he messing with me?’ Kenneth wondered as he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his right forearm.

  Kenneth kept in a groan as he glanced to his side, seeing he’d been cut. ‘How did he?! Just how fast is he?!’

  “SO YOU DO BLEED RED LIKE US!” Jubo yelled, looking intently at his blood-covered claws.

  Kenneth was too shocked to even formulate any kind of coherent thought. He’d dealt with Wilf’s speed before, but Jubo’s was on a whole other level.

  Kenneth wasn’t sure what to do as he took one step forward.

  Jubo suddenly leaped again, and Kenneth had barely any time to tighten his muscles before he attacked again.

  Effortlessly, he dodged around Kenneth and slashed his right and left forearm before quickly moving back to his previous position, fakely looking disinterested.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Kenneth’s blood streamed down, accumulating at the tip of his elbows as it dripped onto the floor.

  ‘I-I-I… I just need to get close and restrain him like Zilika… carefully.’ Kenneth managed to think. ‘Carefully, I’ll knock him out and stop this madness.’

  In the hopes of catching Jubo off guard, Kenneth set off the ground and ran toward him.

  He made it halfway before Jubo even seemed to care that he’d started running, but once he did.

  Once Kenneth was in the center of the ring, he moved. He ran around in circles like a pride of lions surrounding their meal.

  Kenneth acted quickly in the hopes Jubo would be too overconfident and attack him head-on as he spun around.

  His quick foot movement, coupled with the size of the ring and the distance between Jubo and Kenneth, made it barely possible for him to keep up, but only just.

  All he could see of Jubo was his tail and, worst of all. All the alcohol was catching up to him.

  His short-lived career as a ballerina came to a sudden and almost messy end as he came to an abrupt stop and staggered from side to side, his head pounding and on the verge of throwing up.

  Before he even had a chance to think about anything other than stopping himself from puking, Jubo descended upon his back.

  In one swift motion, Jubo dug in all eight of his claws and ripped open the back of Kenneth's white undershirt as well as his back.

  Reflexively, Kenneth spun around.

  However, Jubo was long gone, and Kenneth was left bleeding as his white undershirt slowly turned red.

  Kenneth didn’t even have time to examine how deep the wounds were before Jubo attacked again. Appearing from behind, he slashed Kenneth's left shoulder and stopped at the table facing the crowd.

  “WHO’S LAUGHING NOW!!!” Jubo bellowed as he cackled maddingly.

  The expressions and body language of everyone showed clearly how afraid they were coupled with regret.

  Bleeding and in pain, Kenneth once again rushed at Jubo, but the moment he took one step, Jubo’s ears twisted back, and he was gone, but not before leaving a new slash on Kenneth’s forearm.

  Kenneth spun around, barely catching a glimpse of Jubo before he was gone from his field of view, having gifted Kenneth another slash.

  ‘Dammit… he’s too f-fast… I can’t even lay a finger on him!’ Kenneth thought as he, with frantic desperation, looked from side to side and periodically spun around.

  He looked to his right, and Jubo was already to his left, having left a new wound on his lower back.

  Kenneth looked to his left, and Jubo was already behind him, having left a cut on his shoulder.

  Kenneth kept his pained grunt inside, yet it was getting increasingly more difficult.

  Kenneth turned and twisted his body, looking around the ring for Jubo, yet each and every time, he was someplace else, having left a new Nick. A new cut. A new wound.

  With as fast as he was, it would have been impossible for Kenneth to know where he was if not for the fact his madding laughter informed Kenneth of his precise location.

  He was taking his time enjoying using Kenneth as his new scratching post.

  THAT was one thing Kenneth was certain of as he was left playing catch-up.

  NO! He wasn’t even playing catch-up. He was playing catch-up to a catch-up to a catch-up.

  His arms were tired and heavy as they constantly shook and fell to his sides while he was taking deep breaths.

  Suddenly, Jubo appeared in front of Kenneth with three of his claws resting on Kenneth’s collarbone.

  He seemed to take his time stopping for a moment, enjoying the view up close of Kenneth, bleeding profusely, unable to keep his arms upright.

  As fast as Kenneth was able to react, he tried to grab Jubo.

  However, in one insanely quick and seamless motion, Jubo sliced open Kenneth’s undershirt and flesh.

  “AAARRRAGGGG!” Kenneth grunted, unable to conceal his pain anymore.

  ‘I-I… I-I have to get away!’

  With no concern for where Jubo was, Kenneth retreated from the center of the ring to the closest corner he could find as he kept up his shaking and tired arms with what little adrenaline actually ran through his veins.

  “Where is he?! Where is he?!” Kenneth mumbled with raspit breath before he was sliced bellowed the back of his neck.

  “DO NOT THINK ME INTRAPT BY TABLES!!!” Jubo bellowed before he ran off on top of the table to the other side.

  Breathing heavily with his eyes firmly on Jubo, Kenneth touched the flesh wound. It was shallow, a clear sigh he didn’t intend on killing him… YET.

  ‘Dammit! All this because I insulted him with rhymes while drunk. Why did I drink so much? NO!’ Kenneth thought as realization dawned on his sobering mind. ‘She planned this from the very start… getting me drunk and defenseless all so I’d die.’

  ‘But does she really want me dead? Unless… she’s expecting me to win no matter what. To suffer through pain and hardship… all for her… entertainment.’

  ‘That… that… THAT DAMNED VIXEN!!!’

  HE gritted and bared his teeth, seeing nothing but red as he rushed toward Jubo with explosive force.

  “READY FOR MORE!” Jubo cackled, flexing all eight of his claws.

  Like he’d done so many other times, Jubo ran toward the slow, dimwitted freak and sliced open his noticeable wound-free forearm.

  The pain did not stop or hinder Kenneth in the slightest as he ran toward the same spot, even when Jubo was gone.

  “HAVE YOU GONE BLIND,” Jubo cackled from behind Kenneth.

  However, Kenneth did not let himself get distracted from his target as he interlocked both of his hands and slammed down dead center at the table.

  The thick wood easily broke in two under the might of Kenneth’s raging strength.

  Without any delay, Kenneth spun around, ignoring the pain he felt as he headed to the table to his right.

  However, Jubo wasn’t just about to let it happen as he intercepted Kenneth and clawed at his back.

  Kenneth flinched a bit, but he didn’t slow down in the slightest.

  Jubo let out a frustrated growl as he furiously attacked Kenneth, scratching, slicing, and tearing at his flesh.

  First, his right arm, then his left shoulder, with little delay, once again, his lower back.

  Yet all of this did nothing to stop as Kenneth closed in on the table.

  Jubo wasn’t about to let the freak have any kind of victory, no matter how meaningless it was, as he furiously clawed at him once again.

  Right shoulder, left shoulder, upper back, both sides, spine, raised arms, stomach, chest.

  “GGRRRRAAAAAARRR!” Kenneth roared, slamming his fist down with all his might, easily breaking the second table in half.

  Visibly shaking and barely able to stand, his adrenaline-fueled rage almost out, Kenneth saw it. A safe spot. A corner Jubo wasn’t able to stand on.

  One where he’d be forced to attack Kenneth head-on. At last, Kenneth stood a chance.

  Kenneth weakly walked toward the corner with his head slumped over.

  “DON’T THINK IT’S THA--"

  “YOU ABORMINATION!!!” Someone bellowed furiously from the crowd.

  For the longest time, the crowd had been silent, with little to no cheering from most, given who the fighters were and a lot of worrying from the remaining, like Solk, Selisio, and Jinki.

  However, now all eyes fell on the one who’d bellowed.

  “YOU DESTROYED MY BEAUTIFUL TABLES!!!” Diekono once again bellowed, looking crazier than Jubo as he tried to climb over the tables to get into the ring.

  However, Para Quickly grabbed him and slammed his head against the table, knocking him out. Clearly, he wasn’t too pleased with outside interference of any kind.

  Even the kind that is beneficial to his employer's son.

  “Pathetic low-born,” Jubo mumbled before getting ready to continue.

  However, Kenneth hadn’t used the distraction to get into position. No, he stood on the exact same spot as before, slumped over and wobbled from side to side before suddenly, in one quick motion, he threw his head up and looked at the ceiling.

  He took a few steps back due to the force of the motion and breathed in rapidly before falling to his side and hitting the floor with a loud, mighty thud as blood dripped, ran, and leaked from all his wounds.

  Jubo looked at the sight as his laughter grew and grew, eventually becoming the loudest sound in the room.

  “You coward!” Jinki yelled. “Is that all you can do? Strike and run away!”

  Jubo abruptly stopped laughing and glared to his side, and said in a cold, emotionless voice. “You say something, you low-born filth, or do you want to be next?”

  Jinki, with a pained expression, shut his mouth and turned away, unwilling to see the end of a friend.

  Lying on the floor, Kenneth heard none of this. Jubo’s manic laughter or his threat toward Jinki.

  All he was able to hear was a distinct and low-sounding scraping sound followed by a sound similar to a nail getting flicked on the wooden floor.

  “It’s been so long,” A distinct voice sounded. One Kenneth recognized and loathed.

  “Missed me?” Jasha asked, balancing on one claw with both her hands raised and her leg outstretched at a perfect ninety-degree angle as she slowly did a pirouette like a ballerina.