17. Sarod

17

SAROD

I gather my teammates around me, the energy in the player's tunnel crackling with anticipation. The smell of sweat and dust fills my nostrils as I look at each of their faces, determination etched in every line.

"Listen up, you sorry sacks of shit," I growl, a grin tugging at my lips. "We got those pointy-eared bastards waiting for us out there. You know how they play."

Groknak, still sporting a black eye from our last match, spits on the ground with a grimace. "Fuckin' dark elves," he growls, his voice dripping with contempt. "Always gotta make it personal, don't they? Bunch of prissy bastards."

"Damn right," I nod, feeling the familiar rush of pre-game adrenaline coursing through my veins. "They'll try to break us, but we're gonna show 'em what real zyrphix looks like. We're orcs, for fuck's sake. We eat pain for breakfast and shit out victory." I slam my fist into my palm, emphasizing each word.

A chorus of grunts and whoops echoes through the room, the energy palpable. I feel my blood pumping faster, my heart thundering in my chest. Knowing Josie's out there in the crowd sends a jolt through me. Something primal stirs in my gut, a need to prove myself, to show her what I'm made of. I want her to see me in all my glory, covered in sweat and blood, triumphant on the field.

"Let's go out there and crush some pointy-eared skulls," I roar, my voice reverberating off the walls. The team responds with a deafening battle cry, and I know we're ready. We're going to paint the arena green with our victory.

But before we head out in the pitch, I race my hand and get there attention one more time. Trying to calm these orcs is like herding a pack of batlaz—damn near impossible when they're hollering wild like this.

"Remember," I continue, shouting over the noise. "They'll go for the cheap shots. Protect your vitals, watch each other's backs. But most importantly..." I pause, meeting each of their gazes. "Make 'em regret ever stepping onto our pitch."

The team roars in approval, the sound reverberating off the walls and shaking the very ground beneath our feet. I can't help but grin, feeling the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins, setting every nerve on fire. This is what I live for - the thrill before the battle, the anticipation of glory.

"Now, let's go out there and show those knife-eared fuckers what real zyrphix looks like!" I bellow, my voice carrying over the din. Groknak pounds his chest in response, and the others follow suit, a thunderous drumbeat of orcish pride.

As we march towards the arena, our footsteps in perfect sync, I catch a glimpse of the crowd through the tunnel. The roar grows louder, washing over us like a tidal wave of sound and fury. My eyes scan the sea of faces, searching for one in particular. There she is - Josie, her eyes wide with excitement in one of the best seats in the whole arena. A surge of pride swells in my chest, threatening to burst out. She's here, watching me, believing in me. I'll be damned if I let her down.

Time to give her a show she'll never forget.

I step onto the pitch, power surging through my body. The roar of the crowd washes over me like a tidal wave, but I tune it out, focusing on the task at hand. I've trained for this moment, and I'll be damned if I let anything distract me now. I know my team's got this. We're not above playing dirty if that's what it takes to win, and we've got a few tricks up our sleeves.

I shake hands with Eleris, the dark elf captain of the other team, before returning to our respective sides. His grip is firm, but I can see the uncertainty in his eyes. He knows we're the team to beat.

Then, without warning, the ball bursts from the ground in a shower of dirt and magic. I'm on it in a flash, my reflexes honed from countless hours of practice. I scoop it up before the dark elves can even blink, feeling its familiar weight in my hands. Their sneers turn to looks of shock as I charge forward, my feet pounding the earth.

Two defenders rush at me, thinking they can take me down. Fucking amateurs. I can see the overconfidence in their eyes, and it's going to cost them. I lower my shoulder and plow right through them, using every ounce of my strength and bulk. Their scrawny asses go flying, arms and legs flailing as they hit the ground hard. The satisfying crunch of bodies hitting the dirt fuels my adrenaline, sending a rush of excitement through my veins. This is what I live for, this raw display of power and skill. And we're just getting started.

The crowd goes absolutely wild. I can hear their screams, feel their energy pushing me forward with pure adrenaline. The roar is deafening, a mess of voices merging into one thunderous cheer. But there's only one voice I'm listening for, one pair of eyes I know are locked on me, following my every move.

Josie.

I sprint towards the moving goal, my legs pumping wild, muscles burning with exertion. The ball's tucked tight against my chest, cradled in my massive arms, and I'll be damned if anyone's gonna take it from me. Not now, not when I'm this close. A dark elf makes a desperate lunge, his fingers grasping at empty air as I sidestep him easily. I hear the satisfying thud as he face-plants, leaving him eating dirt and my own victorious grunt.

The goal's right there, shimmering like a mirage in the desert, tantalizing and just out of reach. I push harder, driving my body to its limits. With one last burst of speed, I dive, stretching out as far as I can, every fiber of my being focused on this one moment. The ball leaves my hands just as I hit the ground, the impact knocking the wind out of me. I watch it sail through the air, time seeming to slow as it arcs towards the goal.

It's good. First point of the game, and it's ours.

I leap to my feet with a primal roar, pumping my fist in the air as adrenaline courses through my veins. My teammates swarm me like a pack of wild beasts, slapping my sweat-slicked back and howling with unbridled triumph. Their voices blend together in a holler of victory, but I barely register it. My eyes are already scanning the crowd, searching for the one face that matters most.

And there she is. Josie's on her feet, her small frame practically vibrating with excitement as it looks like she's cheering louder than anyone else in the packed arena. Our eyes lock across the sea of faces, and for a breathtaking moment, it's like we're the only two people in this chaotic world. The roar of the crowd fades away, and all I can see is her beaming smile, all I can hear is the pounding of my own heart. In this moment, with her eyes on me and the taste of victory on my tongue, I feel invincible, unstoppable. Like I could take on the whole damn world and come out on top.

I barely have time to savor our first point before the game's back in full swing. The dark elves are pissed, their faces twisted with rage as they charge at us like a pack of rabid batlaz. But we're ready for 'em.

Groknak's got the ball, barreling down the field like a runaway carriage. Two dark elves try to take him down, but he shakes 'em off like they're nothing more than annoying flies. I grin, pride swelling in my chest. That's my boy.

"Watch your left!" I bellow, spotting an elf trying to flank him. Groknak pivots, narrowly avoiding a tackle that would've sent him sprawling.

But these pointy-eared bastards are relentless. They swarm us, their lithe bodies darting in and out like shadows. One of 'em manages to strip the ball from Groknak, and suddenly we're on the defensive.

I growl, my blood boiling as I watch the dark elf weave through our defenses. Not on my fucking watch. I charge forward, my feet pounding the ground as I close the distance.

The dark elf sees me coming, his eyes widening in fear. Good. He should be scared. He tries to juke left, but I'm ready for it. I lunge, my massive arms wrapping around his waist as I slam him into the ground. The impact knocks the wind out of him, and the ball goes flying.

But before I can celebrate, another dark elf is on me. This one's different - taller, broader, with a mean look in his eyes that tells me he's itching for a fight. Fine by me.

He comes at me swinging, his fists a blur of motion. I dodge the first punch, feeling the wind of it brush past my cheek. The second one connects, a solid hit to my jaw that makes my teeth rattle. I taste blood, and something primal awakens inside me.

I roar, the sound tearing from my throat as I grab him by the waist. With a burst of strength, I lift him clean off the ground, his legs kicking uselessly in the air. The crowd goes wild, their cheers washing over me like a tidal wave.

For a moment, I hold him there, suspended above me like some kind of twisted trophy. Then, with all the force I can muster, I slam him into the ground. The impact sends a shockwave through the dirt, and I swear I can hear the crack of bones beneath me.

The dark elf doesn't get up.

The crowd erupts into a frenzy, their voices merging into one deafening roar. "SA-ROD! SA-ROD! SA-ROD!" They chant my name like a war cry. Fuck if it doesn't feel good.

I turn back to the game, adrenaline surging through my veins. My teammates have used the distraction to push forward, the ball once again in our possession. We're closing in on the goal, ready to hammer another nail in these dark elves' coffin.

And I've never felt more alive.