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Chapter 296 - Jurassic Valley (LIII)
🕑 Added 2025-07-09 00:00:07 +0000 UTCAyu’s eyes widened as she saw Jhura stagger off the ring, her body full of bloody holes. She was like a sort of aunty to Ayu during her time here—someone she respected, trained with. Seeing her torn open like that twisted her gut.
But she was still alive. Ayu could sense it. Barely. The sheer vitality of the Third Body Stage was the only thing keeping her going.
Grahn stepped forward, silent and grim, and helped carry Jhura away. Ayu moved aside to give space, fists clenched.
On the ring, the Easterner wasn’t much better. His right wrist was gone, and blood streaked his thighs and waist. He nodded once, slow and heavy, and limped away under his own power.
The fifth fight of the Full Moon Festival was over.
“That was a fight worthy of the Moon Mother,” Eryx said.
And to everyone’s surprise, he stood.
Ayu’s breath hitched.
Eryx smiled—first at her, then around at the entire crowd—as he reached down and lifted a long-wrapped staff resting at his side.
“And yet, the Moon demands two more fights… and two more fights it shall have,” he said, voice calm as he walked toward the ring.
Ayu’s heart skipped.
What was happening? He was going for the sixth fight? Not the seventh? That made no sense. That went against—
Her thoughts stumbled. She didn’t know all the inner workings of the ritual, but she knew enough. Each warrior had to be stronger than the one before. That rule was iron. Unbreakable. Same as the need for seven fights. Especially the seventh, that was sacred. It closed the cycle. Everyone respected that. Even if beastmen gave no shits about most things, their traditions were law.
So what the hell was Eryx doing?
Was he really that confident? Did he plan to take both the sixth and seventh fights by himself? What if he lost the first? The Easterners had no one stronger to step forward after him, so—
Ayu scanned the ring, then turned to Grahn to ask—but her words died in her throat.
His face.
Cold. No fire. No expression.
And that’s when it hit her.
Grahn… was the only mid Third Stage left on their side. If Eryx stepped in now, then Grahn had to be next. But if Grahn lost—
Who the hell would go last? Who could even go last?
This didn’t make sense.
Her thoughts spiralled. Her breathing quickened. The rhythm of the drums faded beneath the pounding in her head.
Eryx stepped into the ring.
He slowly looked up toward the full moon. The wrap around the staff unraveled, caught by the breeze, revealing a long, slender white trident.
“Eryx. Spearborn of the Scaled Path. Breaker of Bone-Circles. May the Moon Mother be our witness.”
The words fell heavy. The trident caught firelight and moonlight alike.
And then… the air cracked.
A crushing aura spread across the space. Ayu’s muscles tensed on instinct. Around her, weaker beastmen staggered back. Some dropped to their knees.
This pressure…
Grahn’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t hesitate. He grabbed his two short daggers and marched forward, each step heavy, cracking dust and dirt beneath his boots as he made his way to the ring.
Ayu felt the air shift. The mood around her turned grim. Something deep in her gut twisted—this wasn’t right…
Before the fight could begin, she leaned closer to Juzgar, who was still bandaged up from his own battles. “Juzgar… what happens if one side can’t send a stronger fighter for the seventh match?” she asked, voice low.
Juzgar’s eyes stayed locked on Grahn’s back, his jaw clenched tight. “The rules can’t be broken,” he muttered. “Seven fights. That’s law. If one side fails to send someone stronger... it’s no different than refusing the Moon’s call. And that’s an insult.”
Ayu swallowed. “So then what—?”
“There must be a sacrifice,” he said flatly. “To appease the Moon Mother. And not just any offering. It has to be the one with the highest worth.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean…?”
He nodded. “The strongest living warrior of the losing side. They must give their life to pay the debt.”
Ayu’s breath caught. “That’s insane… That’s—! Then what now?! If Grahn falls, who can possibly go next?!”
Juzgar didn’t answer. His gaze never left the ring.
Ayu turned back, just in time to see Grahn step into the center.
“For the Moon Mother!” he roared, his voice shaking the bones of every beastman present. “I, Grahn, give my blood—and take theirs in her name!”
Ayu’s fists clenched tight.
What kind of backwards, savage law was this? And more than that—why? Why was Eryx pushing them to the edge like this? This wasn’t how the full moon festival was meant to go. Sure, the East and West had rivalry—but they weren’t enemies. Not truly. They were beastmen, all of them. United under one banner against the outside world.
So why now? Why this?
The loss of Grahn wouldn’t just be a blow. It would be devastating. He wasn’t just another warrior—he was one of their last pillars. A veteran of the Great Ajnal War. A brother-in-arms to her master, Makoh.
If Eryx…
THUMB!
The first drum struck, sending ripples through the entire village.
THUMB! THUMB!
THUMB! THUMB! … THUMB!
BOOM!
The ground trembled, the air cracked—and Grahn vanished from where he stood. A blur, then a sharp clash rang out as his daggers collided against Eryx’s trident.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Those watching could only follow the battle through sound alone, the ring filled with dust and motion too fast for the eye.
Grahn blurred around Eryx, his form shifting in and out of range, quick as lightning, always pressing from different angles. Eryx held firm, his stance unmoved, defending with the barest shifts of his trident.
Ayu entered Overdrive and pushed it to its limit, trying to keep up. But even then, her vision struggled. Both were faster than her. Stronger. And their control over the Understanding of the World was deeper. Every time she thought she caught something, the next movement blurred it away.
And yet… through it all… she could tell—
A sudden burst of red sprayed the air.
Grahn dashed back, a cut trailing across his cheek.
“I have heard stories of you since I was a child. The Great Grahn. Do not disappoint me,” Eryx said, his trident flicking once—flinging the drop of blood from its tip with such speed it snuffed out a distant torch in a single hiss of steam.
Grahn took deep, quick breaths, heat rising from his body in visible waves. Smoke began to curl off his back and shoulders, rising from the sheer temperature building within.
Ayu’s eyes narrowed. She knew what it was.
A beastman’s core technique, similar in effect to Alonso’s Overdrive—but not born from the Pillar. It came from complete mastery of the Understanding of I. A forced acceleration of the body’s core functions. Heartbeat. Reflexes. Muscle response. All pushed to their absolute brink.
And they simply called it… Fury.
As Grahn unleashed it, the heat around the ring spiked. The air shimmered. Then he moved again—faster.
The dust beneath him exploded as he clashed with Eryx once more, the shockwave blasting out like a cannon, flinging stones and dirt like shrapnel.
Eryx stepped back. Just one step, but it said everything.
“Good,” he muttered, eyes narrowing as his grip on the trident shifted—tightening. And then he attacked.
The ring became chaos. Trident against daggers. Blade against will. Each clash a thunderclap.
Even the brave ones watching close began to retreat—shielding themselves from the storm. Some already bleeding from stone cuts.
The ring felt too small now, as both figures danced through it—thrusts cracking the air with speed, craters forming beneath their feet, and flashes of sweat and blood mixing with the sand below.
Grahn’s eyes were red, his body moving like a wild beast with unnatural reflexes. His daggers slashed and thrust, skimmed and deflected, gliding along Eryx’s trident—but he could barely get in range. The longer reach of the weapon denied him space, and every attempt came with risk… and a fresh cut.
The battle raged on. Eryx began to collect wounds of his own—thin, shallow—but Grahn’s body was clearly straining, pushed far past its limits. Still, he didn’t step back. He couldn’t afford to. Giving Eryx space would be the end.
Ayu watched, blood boiling from the intensity and the weight of it all, silently praying Grahn would find a way—any way—to win.
And then—
Grahn deflected a thrust, the tip scraping his shoulder, but managed to land a slash across Eryx’s ribs before he could fully pull back.
Blood spurted from the wound, but the counter came fast—an elbow to the side, followed by a sweep of the trident that forced Grahn to retreat.
He held his stance, breath sharp.
But the blood dripping from the cracked scales… told the truth. The injury wasn’t light anymore.
“Your mastery of Fury is indeed as impressive as the stories say, old beast,” Eryx said, holding his trident low, stance grounded. He smiled—but there was no mockery in it. “I thought I could win without it, but… seems I was wrong. Let me show you the respect you—and the Moon Mother—deserve.”
As the words left his mouth, his presence… vanished.
Grahn stepped to the side—instinct—and the ground cracked under his foot.
A trail of blood followed.
A deep slash marked his left shoulder, bone exposed, slightly cracked.
Ayu’s eyes widened.
That… One with the World?
No. It couldn’t be—
Grahn moved again, circling the arena, but every step brought a fresh injury. Clangs rang out in bursts, and blood marked his path. Eryx remained unseen—only the faintest hiss of his thrusts gave any clue to his position.
And the battle… continued. Brutal. One-sided.
The beastmen watching clenched their jaws, eyes glowing red with fury and grief, as their elder—a warrior they all respected—fought an invisible foe, his strength dripping away with every cut.
It was painful to watch.
Ayu wanted to step forward. To end this.
But she knew she couldn’t.
All she could do was watch… as Grahn stayed standing, somehow. Bleeding. Shaking. But still there.
And then—
He roared.
A roar so loud it shattered the night. It drowned out the drums, echoed past the hills into the plains beyond. The air warped with it. His veins bulged, blood burst from his skin in sprays as pressure tore his body apart from within. The heat coming off him was suffocating.
“GRAHN, NO!!” a voice cried.
Ayu snapped toward it—an old female beastman, Grahn’s mate, Mahrji, shouting through tears.
But Grahn didn’t stop.
He surged forward—faster than before—slamming into the blur of Eryx. Finally, the crowd saw him again—saw Eryx’s body forced back, clashing, sliding, his own fangs bared in effort.
Grahn was pushing him.
Bone met scale. Trident met dagger. Blood met blood.
Ayu dared to hope.
And then…
Grahn stopped.
Mid-swing.
His arms slackened. His body smoked. His eyes—empty.
And then… he fell.
The sound of his body hitting the sand echoed louder than any roar.
Eryx stood above him, breath ragged, wounds cut deep along his limbs and ribs—none fatal, but enough to tremble his grip.
No one spoke. Not a breath.
The whole village fell silent.
Mahrji was the first to move. She stepped forward, eyes locked on Eryx. He simply nodded and stepped back, allowing her to approach and lift Grahn’s blood-soaked body.
Ayu didn’t hesitate. She ran forward to help too, but as she got close, the stench of blood and the scorched heat rolling off Grahn’s flesh made her reel.
And yet—just as they lifted him—a hand shot out, seizing Ayu’s wrist with sudden force.
Grahn’s eyes flickered open, light returning in a dim, trembling glow. His voice cracked, barely more than a breath. “I… I lost that fight. My life will be… offered…”
“Grahn, no!” Mahrji cried, tears streaming down her fur-covered cheeks, voice breaking with raw grief.
Eryx remained still. Then, after a pause, he spoke. “You fought well, Great Grahn. Your mastery of Fury is unmatched in all the vast plains. But… your life need not be extinguished tonight.”
Ayu’s brow furrowed.
What was this? Was he pulling back now? Letting Grahn live after all this? Just some show to stir the crowd—a fucking attention seeker?
Then Eryx turned, sweeping his gaze over the village.
“Grahn’s life shall be spared—as long as a stronger one steps forward. The seventh fight must take place. The Moon Mother demands it. And so I, Eryx, disciple of Grandmaster Hoki, Scalefather of the Black Bloom… issue my final challenge.”
He raised his voice—clear, powerful, echoing over the flames and blood and still air.
“To the White Wolf of the West. Speaker of the Wild Silence. Son of the Winter Moon. Grandmaster… Makoh.”
There was a sudden silence that engulfed the village, so thick even the flickering of the flames seemed loud.
And then… there was anger.
All the beastmen in the village’s eyes turned pure red, their fangs clenched tight.
Ayu didn’t know how to react. Challenging her master? What kind of bullshit was this… and yet, that was okay, right? As spoiled as this brat was, let him eat the dirt when—
“Fuck you, lizard.”
What?!
Ayu snapped her head around and saw Grahn spit blood high into the air—blood that Eryx actually deflected with his trident, eyes cold.
“Who the… fuck… do you… think you are?”
Ayu’s eyes widened, unsure why she felt this surge of something raw. Grahn’s unfiltered fury, the rage of the others too—it wasn’t just about pride. Sure, disturbing Makoh for something like this was considered shameful, but it beat letting Grahn die. And Eryx had won fair and square… so why did it feel so wrong?
“The seventh fight must happen, Grahn… I dare not—”
“Shut the fuck… up…” Grahn growled, blood dripping from his mouth. “I, Grahn, here and now, will take my—”
His voice cut off as a gentle breeze swept through the village.
Comments
Kwolf209
I can't wait to see Makoh in action. I'm wondering why Eryx did this though; surely he doesn't think he can beat Makoh, right?
