The moment those words left Bruz's mouth, I knew there was no backing down.
A challenge.
In front of the entire clan.
If I refused?
I might as well roll over and let them gut me like a deer.
Strength was everything here.
Either I proved I belonged—or I got stomped into the dirt.
So, naturally, I smirked.
Play it cool.
Stretching out my arms, I rolled my shoulders like I was just loosening up before a workout.
"Alright," I said, voice steady. Unbothered.
I cracked my neck—slow, deliberate.
"Let's get this over with."
The trolls exploded.
Some cheered, hungry for blood and battle.
Others jeered, eager to watch me get flattened.
A few just wanted a good fight.
The circle widened.
"Dead troll walking," someone muttered behind me.
"Bruz is gonna mop the floor with him," another sneered.
I ignored them.
Zephra, though, just watched, her expression unreadable.
I was eager to impress.
Bruz's grin widened, fangs glinting in the firelight.
"Gonna regret this, little parasite."
He turned and marched toward an open clearing at the village's edge.
The ground there was hard-packed and scarred, a battlefield worn from past fights.
The trolls poured in behind us, forming a loose circle—a living arena.
I walked at an easy pace.
Rolled my shoulders.
Shook out my limbs.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
The anticipation thrummed through my veins.
Then my Sharp Vision kicked in.
Every tiny detail sharpened.
The way Bruz's stance was wide—stable, powerful.
His twitching fingers, eager to grab and crush.
The cocky set of his shoulders—no fear, no doubt.
He had power. No question.
But no subtlety.
Just as I stepped into the circle, ready to fight, a new voice cut through the noise.
"Idiot."
The crowd split apart, and a massive troll pushed through.
Gunther.
His face was filled with pure irritation.
Like he just walked into a room and saw someone drinking straight from the milk carton.
Bruz's scowl vanished.
"Brother!" he exclaimed.
Brother?
The two were siblings?
Huh well, that figures.
Gunther's golden eyes flicked between me and Bruz.
And for a second—just a second—he didn't seem pissed at me.
He was pissed at Bruz.
Then he stepped closer to his brother, voice dropping to a low growl.
"Why the hell are you challenging him, Bruz?"
Bruz's scowl deepened, his shoulders squaring up like a wall of muscle.
"I don't need your damn permission."
Gunther exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples like he was already tired of this.
"You're going to lose, idiot," he muttered under his breath.
But Bruz wasn't listening.
Wouldn't listen.
Pride wrapped around him like armor, and at this point, backing down wasn't an option.
Not in front of the clan.
To him, this fight wasn't just about proving strength.
It was about proving himself.
His jaw clenched. "I will not lose."
Gunther looked like he wanted to say something—But he held himself back.
Stopping Bruz now would only earn him the disapproval of the clan.
And if Bruz backed out after all that big talk?
He'd be a laughingstock.
The trolls had already formed a ring, their excitement buzzing like a storm in the air.
They weren't just here to watch a fight.
They were here to see if the outsider—the so-called "chosen one"—was worth the hype.
This was a test.
A trial.
Gunther, meanwhile, looked less interested in the spectacle and more annoyed that his brother was about to embarrass himself.
He sighed, crossing his arms.
"Don't hold back. Go all out. That's the only advice I can give you."
Bruz stiffened at the words, but after a moment, he gave a firm nod.
I watched their exchange, something about it made me grin.
That was… interesting.
Gunther didn't like me.
Not one bit.
But he knew, that I wasn't weak.
He had already fought me.
He had felt my strength firsthand.
And unlike his younger brother, he understood exactly how this was going to end.
I flexed my fingers, rolling my shoulders as energy thrummed through my veins.
Every inch of me felt charged—ready.
I grinned. "Alright. I'm ready."
Bruz stomped to the center, planting his feet wide, his hulking frame radiating confidence. He puffed out his chest, towering over me like he was already the victor.
"I'll make this quick," he sneered.
I lazily rolled my wrist, unimpressed.
"I sincerely doubt that."
Bruz's eyes darkened.
"I'm gonna stomp you into the dirt—then show Zephra what a pathetic wimp you really are."
Ah. So that's what this was about.
This was about Zephra.
I gave Bruz an exaggerated look of realization.
"So that's your motivation? Trying to impress her ehh?"
Bruz's nostrils flared. His tusks twitched.
It didn't take much thinking to realize what was going on here.
He'd had eyes for Zephra and she most likely gave him close to no attention.
But the stranger had just arrived yet she was hovering around him.
I chucked,
"You're throwing a tantrum 'cause she finds me more interesting than you?"
Bruz's face twisted with fury, veins bulging along his thick neck.
His claws dug into his palms.
"Shut your mouth, outsider!"
I smirked. "Didn't deny it, though. I see."
His growl rumbled like a landslide, low and dangerous.
His fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked like splitting wood.
Then—he charged.
Fast.
Way faster than a troll his size should be moving.
But I was used to this.
The earth trembled beneath his pounding steps.
His fist shot out like a battering ram, a blur of muscle and rage, aimed straight for my head.
If that connected—bones could break.
So I did what any sane person would do.
I moved.
I twisted. Ducked. Sidestepped.
Bruz's massive fists carved through the air, missing me by inches.
Then Bruz rained more blows.
Silent Step kept my movements light, my feet gliding over the dirt without a sound.
The crowd erupted.
"Crush him, Bruz!"
"Coward!"
"Stop running like a fly."
To them, it looked like Bruz was dominating.
He attacked.
I dodged.
He was the storm, and I was the leaf just out of reach.
Bruz's sneer widened, his confidence swelling with every missed blow.
"Gonna run all day, little bug?"
I smirked, keeping my stance loose.