Page 120 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
“Truth,” he replies. “You have my word. I’m your ally until we leave this place.”
A bell clangs through the arena, signaling the end of betting.
“Let the fights begin!” Danuk shouts, drowned by a wave of cheering.
The signal’s given. It’s a mad dash to the weapons table. I weave through the crowd, elbows up, and manage to grab a basic knife. Everything left is either too heavy or basically a club… not exactly my style.
“So? Did you get anything? Or are you just leeching off my protection?” Noviosk snaps behind me.
“Yep! And we’re live!” I shout back, as some idiot already swings a massive club at me—his weapon, not… you know.
I barely block the blow. Noviosk smashes the guy aside.
Chaos erupts around us in a heartbeat. The melee begins.
I know my friends are waiting for the right moment to step in, but I’d love to trade places with them right now. A beach vacation? Yes, please. Next time, someone else can take my spot—I’ve done my part.
I dive into the brawl, knife ready, Noviosk supposedly guarding my back.
“You’re supposed to be covering my left flank!” I snap.
“Do you always talk this much during a fight?”
“Of course! And you’re bleeding quite a bit for an ‘invincible’ Srebat!”
He glances at the gash on his arm, surprised.
“It’s superficial.”
“For now.”
We rotate again, back-to-back, a little more in sync this time.
“Left side!”
“Your left… or mine?” he asks.
Man, being teammates with him is exhausting.
We take down a few enemies, but then the Penubian spots us.
He lunges at Noviosk just as three sword-wielding guys charge me. The melee tears us apart. I’m isolated, just a knife in hand—not ideal.
Suddenly, someone jumps in and tosses me a real blade, hilt-first. Reflex kicks in—I drop my knife and grab the sword. Pherebos.
He’s already spinning into motion, his double-bladed weapon slicing through the air and into guards obeying Danuk’s orders.
His arrival signals our cue. Total anarchy has officially begun.
I fight my instinct to rush to Sam. Vlad is watching over her. He’ll do what I would—what I can’t, right now.
The air fills with screams, metallic clashes, bodies crashing. I throw myself into the fight, sword in hand, focused like in training. I don’t team up with Pherebos—he has a loner reputation. And I’ve lost sight of Noviosk. Maybe the Penubian took him out?
A guard charges me from the right. Seriously? How many are there?
The past two days have wrecked me. I’m running out of gas.
Worse, new guards keep flooding in through the arena gates—armed with guns, unlike the original fighters or the spectators jumping in from the balconies.
