Alaric Stormdew stood in the middle of a ring of gawking onlookers. His bronzed skin shone under the blazing sun as he waited for the next man to challenge him.
He had already knocked out two, but it seemed the line of men waiting to challenge him in the tournament was as far as the eye could see.
Quickness was what Alaric needed now.
If he delayed each fight by even a second, the tournament could go on for hours and sap at his stamina until a fresh new man could defeat him.
Alaric could not let that happen.
He was here for one reason and one reason only and that was to catch the queen's eye.
The queen was a picky woman.
She never cared for losers no matter how much they fascinated her.
The ruthless ruler of the kingdom wanted to have only a few people at her disposal, and they always had to be the winners. Alaric knew that. He hated to admit it to himself, but he was the same.
Losers had no place anywhere.
They were wiped from history, positions of power and sometimes even their own homes.
And Alaric had already seen his father and grandfather wiped from all three just because they were losers. He would not be that way.
He would be a winner.
And he would set things right, the way they had to be.
A man from the tournament line came swinging at him.
Alaric held his ground. He moved his head a few inches away from the punch before connecting a powerful strike to the man's neck.
The man fell onto the ground with a sickening thud.
The crowd was cheering now. They still looked rather dazzled and confused but it was clear to them that they were watching a strong contender for the title of the strongest man in the kingdom.
Alaric was determined to get the title.
He huffed in irritation.
The faster the idiots in line could come swinging at him, the faster he could get what he came here for.
He wondered what expression the queen was wearing as he moved forward and kneed a man in the stomach. The man keeled over in agony and another behind him tried to ambush Alaric.
Alaric blocked the blow that would have hit his chest before he threw his forehead down to headbutt the man. The man crumpled down, and Alaric kicked him to the side.
He had to resist the urge to treat the losers like the waste of space they were. This was not the time to waste energy. There were clearly dozens more men to get through, and some were much larger and heavier than Alaric.
Alaric's gaze sharpened as two men entered the ring at the same time.
The people screamed in protest, but the guards did nothing to stop the unjust number against Alaric.
Alaric raised his fists slowly in a fighting stance as he waited for the other two to attack.
Of course, the guards allowed unjust battles. This was what their queen enjoyed of course.
She was a puppeteer who enjoyed watching the way people reacted and responded.
The woman was ruthless and powerful and thought of the people under her as playthings for her amusement.
The two men came at him at once.
Alaric remembered his training and let his muscle memory do its own thing.
Two strong blows and the men had joined the other injured losers on the floor.
The crowd was going crazy, but Alaric did not let himself get distracted.
He was yet to break a sweat, and he intended to keep it that way even after he had won the tournament.
"Who is that, Selic," the queen's cool voice asked.
The announcer who stood by her side hastily looked through his papers.
"Your majesty, that is a young man named Alaric. We have no record of his last name or his family's history… I can send someone to investigate if you so wish."
The queen's light blue eyes were eyeing the man below who had managed to defeat two dozen of the contenders in the tournament till then.
His strong body glistened with sweat against the sun's harsh rays, but his eyes were the most captivating.
The raw power and hunger in them were setting them ablaze every time he saw someone enter the ring to challenge him. It was clear he did not like to be questioned and that interested the queen.
She licked her lips slowly as she watched the man slowly, her eyes wandering lustily from the top of his head to the tip of his toes.
"He is… rather something, no?" she asked, cocking her head to one side as she watched him.
The announcer looked down as well, "Y- Yes, your majesty. He- he feels rather wild. Something like a wild animal to be honest with you."
The queen smiled as her eyes stayed on the young man down in the ring, "Precisely. A wild, restless animal with a lot of untamed energy within him."
The queen was thirty-four years old. She had given birth to her first and only son when she had been seventeen and then got the throne of a large kingdom.
Something about her husband had bored her and he had, conveniently, been poisoned at dinner.
Since then, she had taken several lovers, but beauty alone was not what she wanted. She wanted a strong man. Someone who would dominate her in a way that pleased her.
It was rare finding a man that way but the one in the ring below was the rare man she had been seeking.
Another contender lay on the ground with a bleeding nose.
"How many more?" The queen demanded.
The announcer stammered, not understanding, "What does my majesty ask for?"
The queen ripped her gaze away from Alaric to pin her announcer with a glare, "How many more men are taking part in this tournament?"
"I- Uh, Only a 30 more, my queen."
The queen's eyes roamed before they found Alaric again, "I see. Good."