Chapter 47: Katniss
The battle horn sounded instantly.
The Hunger Games were a source of terror for the other tributes, but for the four tributes from Districts 1 and 2, trained from childhood specifically for this arena, it was truly just a game.
They were prepared to kill others, even their own allies.
"Are you ready to be killed by me?" Jake asked, looking at the four who had stopped twenty feet in front of him.
"What?!" Cato was stunned, then burst into unrestrained, exaggerated laughter. "Haha! Haha! You, a guy who can't even hold a knife properly, dare to say you want to kill me?!" Suddenly, he stopped laughing, his expression turning serious. He stepped forward, waving to the three behind him, "Don't touch him, let me crack open his head and see what's inside."
Jake smiled almost imperceptibly. In battle, understanding the enemy's psychology is a superior strategy, allowing one to maintain the initiative and seize the upper hand.
Despite clearly holding the advantage, Cato was provoked by Jake's simple words into willingly engaging in a one-on-one duel. This mastery of human psychology is the truly terrifying aspect of hypnosis.
Cato gripped the axe handle with both hands, raised it above his head, and charged at Jake like a raging bull!
Jake silently calculated, and just as the axe was about to strike, he used his calves to leap to the left, dodging the blow!
The axe struck the ground, carving a deep trench.
But this was not the end, just the beginning. Seeing that he couldn't finish off Jake with one axe blow, Cato's anger erupted. He pulled the axe from the ground and swung it again.
The axe swung quickly and with tremendous force, and Jake could only barely dodge each time.
Several times, his clothes were even torn.
The three people watching from the sidelines looked at the two fighting, as if Cato were playing whack-a-mole.
Jake's black combat suit was tattered and torn, making him look extremely disheveled, while Cato was only slightly out of breath.
"Roar!!" Cato roared, pulling out his axe and leaping into the air with a stomp of his feet, smashing it towards Jake!
If this blow hit, it would surely be fatal!
However, at this moment, everyone overlooked one thing: as Jake continued to roll on the ground, he was getting closer and closer to the other three spectators.
When he was about six feet away from another guy in the arena, he suddenly leaped up from the ground with a speed that was difficult for anyone to react to.
The male tribute from District Two, whom Jake had targeted, only subconsciously pointed his spear at Jake.
Jake felt a sharp pain in his left arm. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he saw a thin red line cut from the spear on his arm, thankfully just a superficial wound.
Taking advantage of this opportunity, Jake finally rushed in front of the guy from District Two.
The other tribute was very tall, and Jake could only look up at him.
Despite his injured left arm, lack of weapon, and the significant height difference, these were not problems.
He clenched his right fist and swung it hard, striking the guy's Adam's apple. The others present clearly heard a sickening crack!
Crack...
The District Two tribute's eyes suddenly froze, his spear still extended forward, as he collapsed to the ground.
All of this happened in just two seconds. Just as Jake had killed the unfortunate tribute from District Two, Cato had slammed his axe to the ground.
His nearly two-hundred-pound weight pressed down on the axe, the entire tip of which was driven into the ground!
Cato roared angrily at Jake. Jake's sneak attack on the others during their duel was an insult to him.
But this time, the force was too great; the axe wouldn't be easy to pull out quickly. He decided to abandon the axe.
But!
He suddenly felt a chill in his chest!
Looking down in disbelief, he saw a silver-white spear piercing his left chest!
Cato felt a metallic taste in his throat and spat out a mouthful of blood, which landed directly on Jake.
Consciousness slowly faded into darkness. Cato wasn't afraid; he was only filled with resentment, resentment at his own carelessness.
Once Cato had completely breathed his last, Jake, spear in hand, kicked off Cato's corpse with his left foot!
The spear was pulled out, drawing a spurt of blood!
Holding the spear, dripping with crimson liquid, in his right hand, he stood under the blazing sun, exuding an aura of unyielding strength.
The open arena was littered with corpses, some strong, some weak.
Without exception, each one died with their eyes wide open in disbelief.
Of the three remaining Career tributes, only Jake and the other two women stood.
Whoosh!
His head instinctively tilted, dodging a throwing knife aimed at his skull.
However, the sudden attack still slashed a long gash across his cheek, crimson liquid flowing from his cheekbone, his left side appearing as if stained with red paint.
He decisively turned and fled, not forgetting to throw his spear to block the attack.
Two ranged enemies—Jake didn't want to be a human target in this open grassland. He needed to escape in a zigzag pattern!
He heard the whistling of knives behind him; his luck wasn't great. Two knives were embedded in his left arm and shoulder, but thankfully, the force wasn't strong enough to cause deep wounds.
When Jake reached the edge of the woods, an arrow landed at his feet as his farewell.
Looking back, he saw that the two girls had given up on shooting him and were happily dividing up the supplies.
They were probably thanking Jake for taking down the two strongest competitors in the battle; now they just needed to work together to eliminate the others and then kill each other to win.
Running into the woods, Jake touched the throwing knives embedded in his shoulder; they were about to fall off with his vigorous running.
Gritting his teeth, he pulled both knives out of his body; pain was inevitable.
These knives were good—long and sharp blades with serrations near the hilt for easy cutting.
His blood still clung to the knife, and pieces of flesh were scraped off its serrated edges.
He took off his shirt, cut it into strips, and used the knife to bandage the wound. Jake then began his next objective: finding Katniss.
It seemed like a waste if the woman he had risked his life to save ended up with someone else...
Meanwhile, after being rescued by Jake, Katniss rushed into the woods, running aimlessly.
She carried the stolen bag on her shoulder, but dared not stop to check it, only continuing to walk forward, occasionally pausing to see if anyone was following her.
She knew she could walk for a long time, having learned this in the forests of District Twelve, but she still needed water.
This was Haymitch's second instruction, specifically set for her. She hadn't followed the first one properly, causing the guy to be in danger, and she felt immense guilt whenever she thought about it.
So she was determined to follow the second instruction carefully, keeping a watchful eye on water sources along the way.
Nothing!
Bad luck!
As she continued forward, the forest changed; many other tree species appeared among the pine trees, some familiar, some unfamiliar.
The only thing that frustrated Katniss was that she hadn't found water or food, and this situation continued until nightfall.
She didn't feel too bad, perhaps due to the delicious food she had eaten earlier.
As night fell, cannon fire rang out, each shot representing a dead tribute. The battle must have ended, because only after the bloodbath would they collect the corpses.
"Maybe I'll appear on the screen," she muttered to herself.
So many tributes had died on the first day; one person wouldn't be much of a sight to behold.
But she would definitely appear to confirm she was still alive.
When the cannon fire rang out, Katniss stopped in her tracks, her heart pounding. She counted the shots, "One, two, three... eleven!" The cannon fire continued for eleven shots before stopping.
Thirteen people had survived.
"Lance... is he... still alive?" She raised her right hand and touched the dried bloodstain on her face—the blood the boy from District 9 had splattered on her face, now long since dried.
Thankfully, in a few hours, they would project images of the dead into the sky for the surviving tributes to see.
But those remaining few hours filled Katniss with agonizing anxiety.
"Perhaps he's already dead?" She conjured up an image in her mind of Jake, pale-faced, with a hole in his chest, just like the boy from District 9, being carried away by a hovercraft.
She tried hard to recall if she had seen that calm and collected face while wandering through the woods, but all she could piece together was him standing in front of the four of them, solemnly telling her to leave, and... "Catnip?"
She murmured. She suddenly felt that the nickname wasn't bad, and even felt a little nostalgic about it now.
Meanwhile, far away on the other side of the woods, Jake was resting in a tree. He was unaware that his favorability rating had skyrocketed at this moment. All he had to do was appear and offer a warm embrace.
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