Evolution of the Ruined Heir

Chapter 249: Vorr’Takk

Malakai hadn’t been the one to reveal what he would be doing in the Drah’Morr.

He had noticed it since the first time he met their people, English wasn’t their first language.

He reasoned it was due to the ongoing hostilities between the Gor’Mekhai and the city, forcing the former to learn the latter’s language.

While it definitely showed just how seriously the Gor’Mekhai were taking the threat, Malakai couldn’t help but wonder what was the city doing. How were they taking this?

The orb he had chosen erupted into the sky and exploded in a blinding light. Malakai narrowed his eyes as strange markings formed from the bright green glow.

He couldn’t comprehend their language, only that it sounded savage and primal. Their writing reflected the same.

Wild, vicious strokes layered upon one another, arranged to form what Malakai could only assume was a sentence.

A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd, and Malakai watched coldly as the people began whispering and pointing at him.

Some outright chuckled. Some laughed. Others looked at him with cold eyes and sharp smiles, like they were glad at the result.

’Was it bad?’ Malakai wondered, but he got his answer when he saw several figures in the crowd glaring at him, dragging a finger slowly across their throats.

Malakai decided to confirm. His gaze found Luna. She was looking at him, expression worried. That was bad news.

’What did I pick?’

Malakai’s mind worked quickly. He activated his vita field, body tense as he scanned his surroundings.

The last thing he wanted was to be attacked and killed suddenly just because he couldn’t read their damn language.

A tap on the armrest of the Grath’Mekhai’s throne silenced the crowd. As quiet settled, she looked straight at Malakai.

“Your challenge has been chosen,” she said, pausing slightly. As though she could sense the confusion in his gaze, she continued.

“You have chosen the Korr’Zekk.”

The crowd murmured at the name, but the Grath’Mekhai ignored them.

“Here, ten people of your rank and power will be selected. You will fight each of them, one by one. They will fight to kill you, but the best you can do is knock them out. You must defeat all ten to win the Drah’Morr.”

Malakai took in the explanation silently. His expression didn’t shift.

’That’s not as bad as I thought.’

Ten Gor’Mekhai of his rank and power? One after the other?

That meant they’d choose people with at most two nodes. And while the crowd clearly believed he would lose, it was because none of them knew what he was truly capable of.

What he had that none of his rank possessed, his vita field.

Sure, there was the small issue that his opponents would be aiming to kill him while he couldn’t do the same, but he shrugged it off.

No Gor’Mekhai would just stand there if he truly tried to kill one of their own.

Malakai gave the coven head a small nod. He understood.

She turned to one of the guards nearby. “Select the ten youths.”

The guard nodded and descended the platform to carry out the order.

A few minutes passed before Malakai saw the guard gather ten youths and begin leading them toward the platform where the Grath’Mekhai and the elders sat.

The crowd suddenly erupted as they walked, cheering at the top of their lungs. Malakai felt more cold stares settle on him, and he could instantly see why.

’They must be some kind of elite.’

The crowd had entered a frenzy, yelling words Malakai couldn’t quite understand. It was the only explanation. The selected youths were likely considered elite.

’Some are Stalkborn.’

A glance was all Malakai needed to identify several of them. The majority were unmistakably Stalkborn, slender frames, pale skin, and countless small black dots scattered across their bodies.

But the others were from groups he didn’t recognize. Still, he noticed similar traits reflected in the elders seated on the platform.

As they walked past him, the ten Gor’Mekhai youths shot him dirty and threatening looks. Malakai didn’t bother looking at any of them. That seemed to enrage them even more.

“I’ll make your death painful,” one of them muttered as he passed.

That got Malakai’s attention. His gaze turned and landed on one of the Stalkborn.

’He was with him…’

Among the section where Lina and the other Stalkborns sat, Malakai had noticed this boy by the side of the one he considered the strongest of their group, at least in the node formation stage.

He ignored him completely, focusing instead on the ten youths who now reached the platform and knelt before the Grath’Mekhai in perfect sync.

“Ze’kra Valuun, Grath’Mekhai. Ze’tara ven droghat.” they chorused in unison.

The coven head responded calmly, her voice regal.

“Tura’kel vren. Ze’mor drah’val.”

The ten rose as one. Their gazes shifted to Malakai, expressions turning ice cold.

The cheers from the crowd intensified once more, and the youths seemed to bask in the attention, some waving proudly at their coven.

Then, a single tap silenced everything again.

“These will be your opponents for the Drah’Morr,” she declared, locking eyes with Malakai. “Are you ready?”

Malakai took a moment, observing his opponents again.

’They all have two nodes… good.’

He had performed a brief scan as they passed him. Each one had just two nodes, like him. However…

’The vita in their bodies is high.’

From experience, forming two nodes required a certain range of vita. Malakai had studied this carefully, testing it with the veins and others.

But the ten youths before him had far more vita in their systems than there should’ve been.

’It must be this forest.’

The vita in this forest was dense, far denser than anything Malakai had experienced.

Even more so within the heart of the Gor’Mekhai coven. If these youths had grown up here, then it made sense they would turn out like this.

Malakai couldn’t help but curse at how lucky they were.

He pulled himself from his thoughts, the weight of every gaze now pressing down on him.

Luna threw him a small, reassuring nod, but the strained smile on her face betrayed her doubt.

Grunde, on the other hand, was all smiles. There was no flicker of hesitation in his gaze. To him, the fact that Malakai was participating already meant they had won.

Malakai turned back toward the Grath’Mekhai. Without wasting another second, he nodded.

She gestured toward the guards, and one stepped forward with a bow, turning to face the crowd.

“Drah’Valr!” the guard bellowed, his voice thunderous.

“Drah’Vael!” the crowd responded in unison, their reply like a roar shaking the ground.

“Drah’Varl!”

“Drah’Vael!”

Again and again they repeated it, a rhythmic chant of challenge and response.

As the echoes settled, the guard raised his arm high.

“Our first warrior…”

The crowd stilled, and there was nothing but anticipation in the air. They clenched their hands, breathless, waiting to see who would face the outsider first.

“Nekhaad!”

The arena exploded.

“Nekhaad!”

“Kill the Ashskin!”

“Cut his head!”

Malakai shook his head slightly. Now they decided to start speaking English?

It was clearly a cheap trick, an attempt to get in his head. It didn’t work.

He shut out the noise, tuning into the moment. His gaze locked on the youth stepping forward, expression calm and unreadable.

The youth was massive, nothing like the slender Stalkborns. His skin was dark, with tufts of fur jutting out in patches across his body.

His eyes were slitted, glowing yellow and predatory. And from his fingers, claws curved outward like blades.

He smirked at Malakai from across the stage, his fangs glinting beneath the light, sharp, eager, hungry.

“I still think this is a waste of time, Grath’Mekhai,” Urz’Vekk muttered from the platform, shaking his head with disdain.

Shor’fenn released a low growl in agreement.

“He won’t even survive the first match. Nekhaad is a Vorr’Takk.”

Some of the elders remained silent, simply observing. But inwardly, they agreed.

Vorr’Takk was a title given to those the coven deemed prodigies. What others would call geniuses.

Nekhaad, and most of the ten selected, were Vorr’Takk. Young warriors with enough promise to one day become weapons for the coven.

None of the elders could imagine this outsider, this Ashskin, defeating even one.

“We can only know the present,” the Grath’Mekhai said suddenly, her voice cryptic. “Let the future speak for itself.”

Her words silenced the murmurs among the elders, all of whom now turned to the platform with sharpened gazes.

The crowd hushed once more as the guard raised his arm, tension crackling in the air.

Malakai stood on one side of the stage, arms relaxed, gaze cold and distant. Since no weapon had been offered, it was clear… this would be barehanded.

Across from him, Nekhaad stood tall, his eyes gleaming, that same cold smile never fading.

The guard’s arm dropped.

Not a nanosecond was wasted.

Nekhaad exploded forward, the earth trembling under his step.

He moved with terrifying speed, closing the distance in a blink. His teeth gleamed as his claws tore through the air, aimed straight for Malakai’s neck.

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