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Chapter 42.
~Katrina~
"Is there anything you can do to stop this?" I asked, my voice filled with desperation.
Prince Elvin simply shook his head. "It's too late."
I knew that wasn't true. He just didn't want it to end.
"What if the king loses? What will happen to him?" I pressed.
Elvin shrugged. "He dies."
"What?" My heart clenched. No. That couldn't happen. Not Karl. Not when I had just begun to realize how much I needed to see his face—needed him.
Then Elvin burst into laughter.
"I got you," he smirked. "He won't die. He's the king. But he'll suffer whatever injuries he gets from the fight." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You don't have to be scared. We're talking about Karl, for crying out loud. He's the devil himself."
He laughed again, but I didn't find anything funny.
How could he call his own brother a devil?
I called Marissa over, needing her by my side. Only she could understand my fear. As she sat beside me, I gripped her hand tightly.
The fight began.
The clock started counting, and the gladiator received his command—fight the king as if he were an ordinary man.
And he did not disappoint.
The crowd held its breath as he made his first move, swinging his sword toward Karl.
But Karl dodged.
Cheers erupted.
The gladiator attacked again, this time with all his might. But Karl was faster than lightning—moving so swiftly that his opponent nearly lost his balance.
I exhaled shakily.
I just wanted Karl to get out of this unhurt. The gladiator—he had killed so many—but somehow, I didn't want him to die either. None of this was his fault.
The fight went on, even though I wished it would stop.
The gladiator kept striking. Again and again.
And Karl?
He only defended.
I could see it now—the gladiator was growing tired. Frustrated.
Finally, he gripped his sword with all his strength and lunged.
So close.
If Karl had been a second slower, it would have been over.
But somehow—somehow—he dodged at the last moment.
And before the gladiator could recover, Karl was behind him.
A sharp swing.
The sword struck the gladiator's leg.
He let out a roar of pain, gritting his teeth as he staggered.
The king did not spare him.
Without hesitation, he struck again, slicing through the gladiator's other leg. Blood poured onto the ground, mixing with the stains of those who had fallen before him.
The crowd erupted in cheers. They chanted his name, clapping for their victorious king.
But unlike the gladiator, who had laughed and celebrated his kills, Karl showed no joy.
His face was blank—cold—but I could see it. The fury.
He wasn't done. He wanted to make an example out of this man. He wanted them to fear him.
My hand flew to my mouth as I watched in horror.
With slow, deliberate movements, Karl drove his sword through the gladiator's stomach.
I flinched. He could have ended it quickly, but instead, he made his opponent suffer.
Then, I noticed something else—Fortuna was enjoying it.
She was whispering to Angelina, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
The gladiator remained on his knees, refusing to fall. So much blood. So much pain. Yet, still, he lived.
Karl circled him like a predator.
And then—one final strike.
He cut off his arm.
I couldn't hold it in—I screamed.
The moment my voice rang out, Karl stopped.
He turned his head slowly, his gaze locking onto mine.
His mask, his face, his entire being was covered in blood.
Yet, it wasn't enough for him.
The more I looked at him, the more I saw it—the hunger.
He wouldn't stop until he was satisfied.
"The king is looking at you," Marissa whispered, her voice trembling.
I could barely nod. I remembered her telling me how much she hated this game. Now I understood why.
"He looks different," I whispered. "With that mask… and all that blood."
His eyes were dark. Empty.
Like a bottomless void.
Karl raised his sword, ready to sever the man's shoulders from his body.
Our eyes met.
I shook my head, silently pleading with him to stop. Please, Karl. Enough.
For a moment, he hesitated.
Then, instead of carving his opponent apart, he drove the sword straight into the man's heart, granting him a quick death.
The crowd exploded in cheers, rising to their feet, singing songs of praise for their king.
But the way Karl stood there—arms spread wide, eyes closed—sent a chill down my spine.
The man in that maze wasn't my Karl.
He was the devil.
Just like Prince Elvin had said.
"My lady, are you alright?" Marissa's voice pulled me back.
I nodded weakly, pressing a hand to my forehead. This game… it was going to be the death of me.
"The game is over," she reassured me.
Thank the gods.
I pushed myself up and rushed out, my stomach twisting at the memory of all that blood soaking the sand.
Did those men have families? Were their loved ones watching as they died, just like I had watched?
"I don't know what tomorrow's game will be like," Marissa murmured as we reached my room.
I didn't respond. I hurried to the washroom, splashing cold water on my face, letting it cool the fire in my chest.
"Will there be another game tomorrow?" I finally asked, changing into something more comfortable.
"Yes, my lady. But it will be different."
I turned to her. "Do you know what it will be?"
She shook her head. "Only the king and Lord Rowland know."
A knock at the door interrupted us.
Marissa gestured for the visitor to enter.
Rania stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room before she smiled. "Your room is beautiful."
"Thank you," I said cautiously.
Then, with a knowing look, she added, "I bring news from Lady Fortuna."
I waited.
"You are to spend the night with the king."
**
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