Grub barely registered the first hit. Something heavy crashed into his face, snapping his head to the side, but the pain didn't fully reach him. Everything felt distant, dulled, like his body was lagging behind reality. His thoughts came in fragments, slipping through his fingers before he could hold onto them.
Then the second hit came. The same motion with the same force. His vision flickered violently as Tre'yon stood over him, gripping the broken remains of the morning star, bringing it down again and again. Each strike landed with brutal weight, each one followed by that delayed second impact that made everything worse, deeper, and harder to endure.
"WHAT ARE YOU?!"
Another blow came crashing on Grub as spikes pierced his skin and crimson red liquid sprayed from the wounds. Grub's body twitched under the force, his arms barely lifting in time to absorb even a fraction of it. Blood smeared across his face, across the ground beneath him, his breathing uneven and shallow as his body struggled to respond.
"WHO ARE YOU?!"
The weapon came down again. Grub tried to think, he tried to focus. But his mind wouldn't cooperate. It was noise, all of it was noise.
Then laughter was heard ringing through the arena. It was sharp and loud and cut through the tense atmosphere like a knife. It was Cordylus who was laughing like this was the world's funniest joke.
Grub's vision shifted slightly, just enough to catch the black-scaled figure standing off to the side, his body shaking as he laughed openly, completely unrestrained.
"I knew it—!" Cordylus called out, his voice laced with excitement, almost delight. "I knew something was wrong with you!"
He laughed harder. Around him, the crowd had begun to change. The silence broke into murmurs.
Whispers spread quickly. Each conversation was overlapping and uneasy as soldiers leaned toward each other, their eyes locked onto Grub's exposed form. There was no cheering now. The excitement that held during the battle was all but gone. It was instead replaced by confusion and suspicion.
Grub's thoughts began to settle as he slowly regained his senses. He forced himself to focus through the haze, through the ringing in his ears and the weight of everything crashing down on him at once. He finally understood what was happening.
So he kicked up. His leg shot out weakly but suddenly, catching Tre'yon off balance enough to push him back a step. It wasn't strong, but Tre'yon hadn't been expecting it so that was enough to create space.
Grub rolled slightly, dragging himself back as he lifted a trembling hand toward his face. His fingers brushed against torn fabric. He felt loose skin and his dull, bony face.
Finally, the realization hit him fully. His disguise was gone. His well crafted lizard mask no longer covered his face. His cloak was torn to shreds and his lacert-like gloves had been ripped off. Grub froze for half a second, his breath catching in his throat as everything clicked into place at once.
Then he slowly turned. He forced himself upright onto his knees as his body shook violently. The broken spear was still lodged deep in his gut and blood continued to drip steadily down onto the dirt beneath him. Every movement he made caused pain. But he stayed up.
Grub looked around at the crowd of soldiers.. Their eyes were staring back at him.
Then, slowly, he spoke.
"…wait…"
The word came out rough, broken, but it was clear. The murmuring shifted.
"…wait…wait…"
He raised his hands slightly, weakly, trying to show he wasn't attacking.
"I—please…"
The language came slower than he wanted, but it came.
"…I am sorry…"
That caught them. The whispers grew louder.
Confusion layered over suspicion now as more heads turned and more voices whispered. A few soldiers stepped back slightly unsure.
Grub forced himself lower. He prostrated himself before them and began to plead. It annoyed him but, Grub wasn't the type who would hold on to his pride and die with it.
"I…came…for answers…"
His head lowered as his body swayed slightly, barely holding itself upright.
"I mean…no harm…"
The words were messy. But they were understandable.
Tre'yon froze as he heard him speak. It was now apparent he had even lied about being mute..
Lelan didn't hesitate like Tre'yon. She had already started moving.
The crowd parted slightly as she stepped forward, her presence alone enough to silence some of the noise. Her gaze stayed locked on Grub the entire time, sharp, calculating, and unreadable.
Grub's mind raced.
This could work—It had to.If they listened—If they just listened—
Lelan stopped in front of him. Then she slowly crouched down close to him. Close enough that Grub could see her clearly now. As his head and vision pulsed, he wondered if she was considered beautiful among the Lacerts
"You said," she began, her voice calm, almost too calm, "you wanted answers… right?"
Grub nodded quickly, his head dipping again.
"Yes—yes…"
Maybe. Maybe this was it. Maybe he would finally get an expla—
Lelan scoffed. Then her foot slammed into his side.
The impact sent Grub flying backward, his body rolling across the dirt as the pain finally hit him fully, violently, ripping through his already broken state. The spear in his gut shifted slightly and he choked on his own breath as blood spilled from his mouth again. He looked up and met her eyes.
Her eyes weren't calm anymore. They burned holes into Grub's head as fury spread across her face.
"You think I'm stupid?" she snapped, her voice rising sharply as she stepped toward him. "Some unknown creature shows up out of nowhere, hides among my soldiers, and suddenly reveals itself in the middle of a tournament?"
Grub shook his head weakly, forcing himself up slightly.
"No—no, I—"
"A spy," she cut him off immediately. Grub winced.
"I'm not—"
"You are," she said flatly. "And a bad one at that."
Grub clenched his jaw.
"I came for answers—"
"And you'll get them," Lelan replied coldly, straightening as she turned slightly. "From someone far above me."
Far above her? She was the highest ranking lizard he knew of. Through the whole time observing them he hadn't seen any lizard hold more authority than her.
She didn't even look at him as she spoke the next words.
"Capture him."
The soldiers hesitated for only a moment. Then they moved. Grub's eyes widened slightly.
No. No, this wasn't—
"I came peacefully—" he tried again, forcing the words out through the pain, through the blood still filling his mouth. Yet no one seemed to listen.
They surrounded him quickly, forming a tightening circle as they closed in. Weapons lowered, hands ready, eyes locked onto him with a mix of fear and hostility.
Tre'yon stepped forward with them. His expression had changed completely. The hesitation from earlier was gone. Now there was only anger. Grub let out a weak breath.
Yeah… probably not the best time to tell him I killed his brother. The thought flickered through his mind despite everything.
Then he quickly forced himself up. Every muscle screamed in protest, his body threatening to collapse under its own weight, but he pushed through it anyway, stumbling forward into a run.
He couldn't use the weight. There was nothing left. He had burned through all of the Death in the fight.
So he ran as fast as he could. Grub sprinted as fast as his body would allow, weaving through the camp, pushing past startled soldiers, ignoring the pain tearing through his side with every step. Blood trailed behind him, marking his path as he forced himself forward. He had to get out. Now.
Despite everything, he was fast.
Even injured, even barely holding together, he outpaced most of them, slipping through gaps, cutting around structures, forcing distance between himself and the crowd chasing him. For a moment, it almost worked. As Grub sprinted through he noticed that something was closing the gap fast.
Grub's eyes flicked back just in time to see Tre'yon catching up, his movements sharp and focused, his speed cutting through the distance far faster than the others.
Grub scowled as Tre'yon lunged and landed a kick perfectly. It slammed into the back of Grub's leg, knocking him off balance completely as he crashed forward, hitting the ground hard. The impact drove what little air he had left from his lungs as his body rolled once before stopping.
Then everyone was on him. Hands grabbed him and pinned him to the dirt.
Grub struggled weakly, but there wasn't enough left in him to break free. Not like this.
Lelan approached slowly. Her composure was calm and controlled.
A small smirk tugged at her lips as she looked down at him.
"You're impressive," she admitted. "For a rookie."
Grub glared up at her, breathing heavily. She tilted her head slightly.
"But that's the problem," she continued. "You've only seen rookies."
Her eyes sharpened.
"You have no idea how strong the rest of us are."
Grub clenched his teeth.
"I didn't come to fight—" he forced out again. He wasn't big on talking, but he was trying his best to resolve this. He just needed answers, something to make this whole time following them worth it.
Lelan turned away.
"Take him to the Head."
That was it. No more discussion.
Grub's expression hardened.
No.
He twisted suddenly, forcing his body to move, slipping partially out of one soldier's grip as he tried to pull himself free.
As soon as he got out of the grip Tre'yon's fist came down. It slammed into Grub's face with brutal force. Grub's vision blurred on impact as the scaled fist pressed onto his skull.
Then the second hit came. Everything became indistinguishable.
As he fell, the world tilted, his vision catching pieces of everything around him in broken fragments.
Cordylus was still laughing with no care in the world.
The soldiers were reaching for him. They seemed to be closing back in and securing him once again..
Tre'yon was standing over him.
Then—Nothing made sense anymore.
Tre'yon's second punch hit deeper than the first. And everything went dark.