The tavern cleared out faster than a free ale keg at a bore-folk wedding.
Tables were shoved aside, chairs were stacked, and a makeshift ring was formed in the muddy street outside The Broken Mug. The patrons, hungry for blood, cheered and shoved, making bets with whatever coin they had.
In one corner stood Gorm, cracking his neck and looking like a boulder that had learned to walk.
In the other corner stood Ignotus, picking lint off his black shirt.
Felix stood on the sidelines, wringing his hands so hard his knuckles were white.
"He's going to die..."
Felix whimpered to Lykos.
"He's insane; he's going to be turned into paste. Look at the size of that man! He eats people like him for snacks!"
Lykos didn't answer. He just watched Ignotus with narrowed eyes, his tail twitching nervously. He remembered the bandits. He remembered the confidence. But this was different. This was a duel of strength against a giant... indeed, Ignotus and Goliath.
"Looking at your face..."
