Changeling

NIALL

A sharp, searing pain erupted over my face as the force of a clenched fist connected with my skin. I spun along the length of the connected arm, wincing at the impact before parrying it with a swift counterpunch. My opponent towered over me, his muscular frame looming and casting a menacing shadow. But I was not intimidated. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I suck in a deep breath and lashed out, landing precise blows to his cheek and jaw. He stumbled back, dazed and disoriented, but the rush of endorphins from the fight kept me going. The world around us faded away as we engaged in a brutal dance of fists and feet, each strike fueling our competitive spirit. My body felt alive, invigorated by the physicality of combat.

I watched with a sick fascination as the blood spurted from his clenched teeth, painting the air in a crimson mist. His eyes were wide and wild, screaming in agony as I landed another blow to his already broken nose. The metallic scent of blood filled my nostrils and splattered across my face, but I couldn’t contain my twisted grin. The rush of adrenaline sent a drugged-like effect that pulsed through my veins, dulling any sense of compassion or remorse. He stumbled back against the wall, cradling his head in his forearms, a pitiful sight compared to my triumphant state. Every sense was heightened in that moment, as if I could taste and smell every drop of blood that stained the room. This was pure ecstasy, a high like no other. He was my prey.

I had been yearning for this moment, imagining it in my mind over and over again. My heart raced as my eyes locked onto my larger, bloodied opponent. The sweat and adrenaline pumped through my veins as I remembered his smug face, the smirk that had fueled my anger and desire for revenge. How much I longed to beat the living hell out of it. He had taken what was rightfully mine. And worst of all, he had hurt her—the one person in this world who meant everything to me. This was more than just a fight—it was a battle for vengeance and redemption. And as I stared into his eyes, I knew that I would show him the true meaning of pain.

My fists slammed into his ribs with a sickening crunch, causing him to double over in pain. Blood gushed from his gasping mouth as I pummeled him relentlessly. Suddenly, someone yanked me back by the shoulder and I reluctantly pulled away from the crumpled figure on the ground. As I moved to the other side of the ring, my body trembled with euphoria and my vision blurred with rage. The cheers and whoops of the crowd sounded like distorted screams in my ears. My breathing came in short, ragged gasps as I scanned the faces of the grotesque spectators, their fervent pounding on the railing and stomping on the dirt floor adding to the chaotic frenzy of the brutal fight. The relentless ringing in my head only intensified, but I couldn’t stop now. Not when victory was within my reach. I could only see red.

“I’ll fucking kill you,” came the defeated mutter from his mouth. I couldn’t help but smirk in satisfaction as he struggled to get back on his feet. These empty threats were a sign that I had won this game. I had already bested him physically, and now he was resorting to weak attempts to throw. “And then I’ll take that pretty piece of ass.” My smile dropped like a lead weight, replaced by a swelling rage that consumed me from the inside out. My vision blurred with a searing red tint as an unknown fury boiled within me. He cackled in sick delight, fueling my growing desire to lash out and destroy everything in my path. “Does it boil your blood, knowing I’ve seen her, smelled her, felt her? And you haven’t.”Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

His taunting words faded into the background as I focused on the roaring inside me. It was like a red haze, blocking out everything else except for him. The man who stood before me with a bloodied smile and feverish eyes, mocking my every move. I could feel the weight of his actions, the fear and pain that must have filled my mate’s eyes when he tortured her. My mind flashed to her battered wings, amputated and wrapped up like a slab of meat from the butcher. She was a faceless figure to me, her identity shrouded in mystery just like her whereabouts. And yet, here I was, face to face with the man responsible for all of it. My fist clenched as the rage boiled inside me, ready to unleash its fury.

An animalistic ire surged through my body, overriding any rational thought. In a split second, I lunged forward with lightning speed, my fingers wrapping like vices around his throat. My nails sharpened to deadly points and plunged into his skin, drawing blood that coated my hand with a sticky warmth. He fought and struggled against my grip, but it was futile against my monstrous strength. With a primal roar, I lifted him effortlessly over my shoulder and slammed him into the stone wall behind us. The impact sent shockwaves through the arena as he crashed headfirst into the solid surface, creating a crater in the wall. Blood and rubble rained down around us as the crowd fell silent, stunned by the raw power on display. And amidst the chaos, I stood tall and unyielding, fueled by a feral determination that knew no bounds.

The echoes of his taunts faded into the silence that hung heavy in the air. The once lively crowd stood motionless, like statues frozen in time. I straightened my posture and clapped my hands together before stepping towards the gruesome scene I had created. The broken stones were now splattered with a deep red, and his lifeless body was half-buried beneath the rubble outside the bar. The alleyway was shrouded in darkness, damp from a recent downpour. With disgust, I spat at the scene before turning to face the curious onlookers. Their stares bore into me, silent but filled with judgment and curiosity.

Shock and fear rippled through the crowd as they witnessed the aftermath of my victory. Among the sea of faces, there were also darker looks—eyes filled with hatred and resentment towards me. The officials pressed through the throng, their expressions focused and determined. I knew I had just committed a heinous act in their eyes—the murder of one of their own. Yet, according to the rules of this brutal fighting ring, I had emerged as the victor. There was nothing they could do to challenge my win, at least not in front of the bloodthirsty spectators who were now backing away from me. As I stumbled down the fallen cobblestones, I reached out and grabbed my shirt from the wooden bar separating the fighters from the audience. Whispers and gasps reverberated through the air as people and creatures alike stepped back in fear and disgust at the scene before them. I didn’t blame them, the fucker had been an idol in this fucked up kingdom of theirs.

“Piss off, I’m out.” I angrily pushed my way through the crowd, my shoulder throbbing from a pulled muscle. The officials who were in my path stopped and stared as I stormed past them.

The cold of the night hit me harder now that I was outside. The sweat from the back-to-back fights coated my skin in an icy layer and I yanked on my shirt. The chatter from inside followed me out, growing quieter as the heavy wooden door swung shut behind me. In this desert town, the days were scorching hot but the nights were unforgivingly frigid. I shoved my hands deep into my pockets and let out a sigh, watching as my breath formed small clouds in front of me. Despite my loss of control earlier, I felt a sense of satisfaction wash over me. It was a moment I had been dreaming about for weeks, though I couldn’t help but wish it had lasted longer. With a determined stride, I started down the quiet street towards my Inn. The sweat from the fight slowly freezing along my damp skin, causing shivers to run through me.

One could call this a war, but to me it was nothing more than a trivial pissing match. As a skilled mercenary, I had long ago learned to follow the money wherever it led me. With no home or family to claim as my own, I traveled from land to land in pursuit of the gold that kept food in my belly and liquor in my blood.

The sounds of clashing swords and screams of agony surrounded me, but I paid them no mind. The fighting was coming to an end, the ground littered with the bodies of fallen soldiers like an unholy graveyard. With a grunt, I stood up and placed my boot on the chest of one such enemy. His name and face were meaningless to me—he was simply another opponent in this never-ending game of bloodshed.

I wrenched my bone-carved ax from his skull with ease and let out a heavy sigh. The sun was beginning to rise, signaling that we had fought through the night. But even with all the battles I had been through, there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to keep me awake for this.

A faint hiss cut through the otherwise calm wind, sending a shiver of foreboding down my spine. Without warning, a searing wave of agony engulfed me as I fell to one knee, gasping for air. With a sickening realization, my eyes fixated on the source of the pain—a bloody stone arrowhead jutting out from my once-protective armor. The metallic stench of blood and the unmistakable reek of rotten eggs filled my nostrils, causing my vision to blur and tilt with dizziness. I knew I was in deep shit now.

I blinked repeatedly, trying to clear my dazed vision. Everything around me seemed to be getting darker by the second. I shook my head, hoping to shake off the haze, but it only made me lose my balance and fall to my hands and knees. Fuck an elf! My consciousness was slipping away at an alarming rate. I glanced around at the abandoned wagons and lifeless bodies scattered behind me, my focus honing in on a familiar orc that I had grown to know well, mercilessly impaling a gorgon with his weapon. As the creature’s bow fell from its grasp, the orc turned to look at me with concern etched on his face. I could only shake my head in response, confirming his fears before succumbing to the darkness overtaking me completely.

A cool, damp cloth brushed against my forehead, the scent of fresh water awakening my senses. How long had I been unconscious? In a panic, I grabbed the wrist of whoever dared to touch me and sprang out of bed. The blonde in my grasp let out a piercing scream before I silenced her by cutting off her air supply. My weapons and armor were gone, and my shoulder felt numb. A feverish heat radiated from my skin. The door flew open and I stared at the new threat with intensity. It was a familiar man, his massive frame topped with a thick, dreaded mohawk. He grinned widely, revealing crooked teeth as he sauntered towards me. The creases between his eyes deepened when he saw the blonde dying in my arms, and he lunged at me without hesitation.

I rarely ever, ever, wrestled with an orc. In fact, there was only a singular other occasion in which I had the displeasure of grappling with one. Now I was at risk of tallying the count a second time. I didn’t know where I was or anything in between, but I knew one thing. Whatever the orc wanted he was going to get. I dropped the struggling creature and stepped back, lifting my hands in surrender.

Or at least I tried.

A curse word escaped my lips as I collapsed and landed on the bedside table, knocking over whatever items had been placed there. The table was clearly well-used, and my awkward fall caused some of its contents to splash me.

Long hair fell with me, hair longer than I had originally thought, and the orc knelt next to her. “Are you okay?” His rough voice whispered while he rubbed the curve of her shoulder.

She nodded and rubbed her own throat. “I’m fine,” She spoke hoarsely. “He needs to lay back down, please.”

The orc nodded before shifting those white-less eyes at me. I gulped. With a hand larger than any other hand in the world, and I would die defending that statement, he literally manhandled me back under the covers. I knew there was no point in resisting; he could overpower me effortlessly. “Stop being a slithering worm and stay there,” he barked. The tone triggered a memory from long ago and I inwardly shuddered.