Evolution of the Ruined Heir

Chapter 250: Thud

For the Gor’Mekhai, the Vorr’Takk was a title of great honor.

It was what every parent hoped their children would one day achieve. It was given to those the coven deemed prodigies, youths who held the potential to become great warriors.

The Vorr’Takk were treated with the deepest respect in the coven, even by adults. There had been countless cases where a Vorr’Takk had defeated an adult, and each one only proved just how gifted these chosen were.

Nekhaad was one of them, and he was well known by all. Which was why, as soon as the guard’s arm dropped and he blasted forward, claws tearing toward the outsider’s neck, the crowd had already assumed the battle was over.

Nekhaad was a prodigy, even among those above his rank. For some outsider to think he stood the slightest chance of even clashing with him… it could only be described as delusional.

The crowd waited for the sound of flesh tearing. The splatter of crimson blood.

But it never came.

Of everyone present, Nekhaad was the first to widen his eyes. He caught only a faint glimpse of Malakai’s movement. That alone was remarkable.

But it wasn’t enough.

One moment, Malakai stood at the mercy of his descending claws. The next, he was inside Nekhaad’s guard, his fist tearing toward his chin.

The crowd realized what had happened the instant the punch landed.

Bam!

Nekhaad’s head twisted to the side, the sudden force causing his brain to rattle. He wobbled a few steps, shaking his head continuously as though trying to clear the rising haze… but he couldn’t.

His vision blurred, and he slumped to the floor, darkness claiming him instantly.

The gazes of the elders tore wide.

“What is this…?”

“How did he…”

“What!?”

What came out of their mouths were either broken sentences or one word questions. None of them could believe what they had just seen.

Urz’Vekk, along with many of the elders, wore serious expressions as they gazed at Malakai. Some of the others might not have seen it, but they had. They had seen the outsider’s movements.

He hadn’t been faster than Nekhaad. No. In fact, he had seemed slower.

However… Malakai had moved as though he knew the future.

’He moved before Nekhaad took a step.’

Urz’Vekk shuddered. He knew a battle hardened warrior when he saw one, someone who had dedicated his life to battle, who had painstakingly trained to reach such precision.

And right now, that was exactly what he saw.

For a brief moment, every spectator slowly widened their eyes, as though still trying to process what they had just witnessed.

Had a Vorr’Takk been knocked out with just one blow? Or were they dreaming?

“That’s my little bro!”

The loud sound of clapping snapped them out of their reveries. Heads turned to see Grunde on his feet, clapping with a wide grin, completely unbothered by the silence around him.

Luna didn’t try to stop him. She was smiling too, clearly pleased by the result.

The crowd soon turned their attention back to Malakai, still trying to make sense of it all.

All eyes were on him, but it did nothing to shake him. Malakai didn’t flinch, nor did he gloat.

He simply stood still, Nekhaad’s figure motionless beneath him. He looked calm, too calm. There wasn’t a single hint of excitement in his gaze.

It was as though he hadn’t done anything worth mentioning.

And somehow, that grated on the crowd’s nerves even more.

“Next.”

The Grath’Mekhai’s authoritative voice broke the silence. The guard, visibly shaken, cleared his throat.

“Winner… Malakai!”

No one except Grunde cheered. The big man clapped even louder, with zero care for the deadly silence around him.

The guard cleared his throat once more. He gestured toward the guards at the edge of the stage, and they quickly moved to carry Nekhaad’s body off the stage.

Afterwards, the guard cast a glance at Malakai and couldn’t help but feel a hint of unease. Like all Gor’Mekhai, he held a deep pride for their coven youths, especially those regarded as prodigies.

The Vorr’Takk were supposed to be untouchable by those who hadn’t undergone the same brutal forging. Only a Vorr’Takk could defeat a Vorr’Takk. That was what everyone knew, what they believed.

But this boy hadn’t just defeated one of them. He had done it so effortlessly… many were still struggling to accept it.

The crowd suddenly stirred, shouts rising from all sides.

“Drogan!”

“Velkorr!”

“Jezrekat!”

“It was a mistake!”

“It won’t happen again!”

“Put him in his place…!”

The crowd had become riled up, shouting the names of the other remaining nine contenders, each one a Vorr’Takk in their own right. The energy in the air shifted. From disbelief… to bloodlust.

As their voices filled the arena, Malakai turned to face the remaining nine.

Each one of them stared back, gazes colder than ice. Their killing intent was unmistakable. If not for the Grath’Mekhai’s presence, they would have already pounced. It was clear. They wanted nothing more than to rip him apart.

The guard suddenly felt the Grath’Mekhai’s piercing gaze fall on him, and he shivered. He bowed quickly and moved to control the crowd.

“Silence!”

His voice boomed across the arena, and the roaring crowd quieted at once.

Without wasting another second, he raised his arm.

“Jezrekat!”

Malakai’s calm eyes landed on a slender female Gor’Mekhai as she stepped away from the other contenders.

A heartbeat later, she stood across from him, her gaze fierce and cold.

’A stalkborn.’

The thought passed through Malakai’s mind calmly.

Even now, nothing seemed to stir him. Nothing had managed to make his gaze flicker. He stood unmoving, solid as a mountain.

His next opponent had a lithe frame and the distinctive features Malakai had come to associate with the stalkborn. Her movements were fluid, her aura sharp. She met his gaze without flinching.

“I will avenge the shame you brought onto Nekhaad,” she spat, her voice dripping with venom.

But the lack of response from Malakai made her gaze turn even colder. Her killing intent spiked as she settled into a stance, one foot forward, her body leaning in.

Malakai’s eyes glinted the instant he saw it.

’It’s focused on speed.’

He already had an idea of what the stalkborn of the coven specialized in.

’Speed.’

He’d come to that conclusion during his fight with Lina in the forest. She had been fast, incredibly fast for someone with just four nodes.

He’d been able to handle her only because of the surprise she’d felt when her first attack failed.

Still, that didn’t change anything. Lina had four nodes. This girl… only had two.

The guard’s hand dropped, and the girl exploded forward. Her momentum was sharp, and movement explosive.

She didn’t use claws, but the speed at which her fist tore toward his chin made it no less deadly.

Many in the crowd were already on their feet, eyes wide with anticipation. Jezrekat was also a Vorr’Takk. If anyone could humble this outsider, it was her.

Cheers were already beginning to rise. The moment her fist closed the final inches, so close to landing, many prepared to roar.

Bam!

The sound echoed across the arena, but no cheers followed.

Many in the crowd stood frozen, lips parted in shock.

A blow had landed, yes. But it hadn’t been the one anyone expected.

They watched, stunned, as Jezrekat crumpled to the ground, unmoving.

Most of them had seen what happened, yet none wanted to believe it. The elders were far more expressive. Some shot up from their seats, eyes wide in disbelief.

Two Vorr’Takk. Two! Knocked out with just a single blow each.

Who the hell was this Ashskin? And how was he making their prodigies look like nothing?

Grunde’s loud claps and cheers rang through the stunned silence. But before the noise could shift again, the Grath’Mekhai’s voice cut through.

“Continue.”

Many of the elders turned toward her, their gazes narrowed. But her expression hadn’t changed in the slightest. Her serenity made the shock on their own faces feel childish.

And they couldn’t help but wonder:

Why the hell is she taking all this like it’s normal?

Regardless, she didn’t seem to care for their confusion in the least. Her piercing gaze fell upon the guard.

The moment he felt it, he snapped out of his daze and quickly gestured for the fallen Jezrekat to be carried off the stage.

Casting another shaky glance at Malakai, who stood calm and unmoved, the guard raised his arm once more and called out the next contender.

The next was another stalkborn. But from the look on the now quiet crowd, it was clear he wasn’t as talented as the last two.

Still, they held on to a sliver of hope.

Maybe whatever sorcery Malakai had used was over. Maybe it had been luck. Maybe… just maybe, this one would stand a chance.

But it was vain hope.

The battle ended in the first second, just like the others. A single blow to the chin. The youth crumpled.

“Next!”

There was no pause this time.

The moment Malakai defeated one, the guard called the next, motioning for the match to begin.

Bam!

Thud.

“Next!”

Bam!

Thud.

Five more fell in quick succession.

By the time the last hit the ground, the arena had fallen into a heavy silence.

No one roared. No one cheered. They simply stared, utterly disbelieving.

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