The Alpha's Blind Fate
Chapter 311: An Upolished Gem Or Not?

Chapter 311: An Upolished Gem Or Not?

ZINA

While Garl Zardite was a whole lot of puffing, confident smoke. The Sighter never spoke a word like he couldn’t be bothered to say anything.

And finally, the duo retreated to the Stage.

Zina was about to turn and leave for her seat when Daemon’s voice stopped her short of doing so,

"It didn’t seem as though you were that fond of your new seating companions. Might as well use this opportunity and reclaim back your seat at my side."

It was a tempting offer, one Zina didn’t hesitate to take.

"Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?" Zina asked even though she knew well enough that he was more than capable of hearing their conversations.

But Daemon didn’t answer her. Instead he asked, "between these two, whom do you think will win this round?"

Zina thought that there was a strange tone to his voice at the question. But she shrugged it off as her imagination.

"Zardite is confident for sure. I believe his confidence doesn’t stem from mere air." Zina said as she observed the two men that stood at the two ends of the stage, staring at each other while they waited for the metal plate to be clanged—a signal that the combat could now be commenced.

"So what? Do you think Zardite will win this round?" Daemon asked while he filled his wine glass.

"I guess it is the reasonable thing to think," Zina said honestly, "but I do not think his contender is any ordinary person either despite the fact he looks just like one."

"Hmm... why do you say so?"

"I don’t know," Zina shrugged, "just a feeling."

"A feeling?" Daemon repeated with a drawl. "But you’ve not yet answered my question Theta. Which of these men do you think will win. Let’s turn this into a little bet of our own."

Zina faced him, thinking him to be quite strange at the moment. "Who do you think will win?" She asked instead, her question somehow eliciting a smile out of him.

"I will bet on the man you don’t bet on. I believe it’s the gentlemanly thing to do." He simply answered, his eyes holding hers as he downed his wine.

"What will I get out of this?"

"A promise to set your mind at ease in view of our last argument. I promise that I will involve you every step of the way while I handle the masked man... that is, should your bet be correct."

Zina suddenly felt serious and she chanced one final glance at the two of them. Instead of making things complicated for herself, she decided to go the simple route.

Zina remembered that she had had the Heralders investigate the Sighter before the first test. The reports on him had described him as a mysterious albeit a skilled Finder of missing things from the West.

Nothing had been reported on his physical prowess, but Zina was ready to make a well informed gamble nonetheless.

"I shall bet on the Sighter then," she answered just as the metal plate was hit hard to signify the running of the five minutes.

Something dark swirled in Daemon’s eyes at her response, and she faced the stage just in time to see Garl Zardite fly at threatening, blurry speed to deliver what could have been well termed a finishing blow.

It was clear that Zardite had not time to play around. No, he was aiming for a crushing victory. The kind where he would be declared winner in just one minute of the combat.

Zina watched as the scene unfolded slowly before her. The Sighter didn’t move an inch, his lean frame seeming to be glue to the ground where he stood. And Zardite’s blow came for him unflinchingly and Zina was almsot sure she had lost the bet.

But just as Zardite’s fist was mere inches away from the Sighters heart, the smaller man deftly stepped to the side and the effect was Zardite crashing to the ground like the giant mess he was.

"What the hell was that speed?" Voices muttered from behind her, both impressed and at the same time confused. Even the Thetas seemed quite shocked at how everything had happened.

It had been too slow for Zina’s eyes, and yet, it had been insanely fast. Whether it be the once descending blow, or the manner in which the Sighter had deftly stepped out of the way barely a second before his chest would have been crushed by Zardite’s huge paws.

But for all the shock everyone seemed to show, Daemon only possessed a look of boredom, seeming to be thoroughly unimpressed with the show.

Zina ignored his bland expression, looking onto the stage with more excitement than she originally had. It would seem as though she was winning this bet.

Zardite struggled to his feet, his face red and inflamed with hot anger. The Sighter could have finished him then and there, but for some reason, the mysterious man simply stood off to the side, hands in his pocket, and his stance lazy.

His features buried under his wild mane of brown hair only made him seem more secretive at the moment. And his equally strange brown eyes painted him in an otherworldly light.

Wild mane of brown hair?

Strange brown eyes?

Why were those features of his ringing a bell. Almost like they were familiar.

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall." A council man spat distastefully from their left, "Zardite overestimated his own strength. How dare he allow a stranger from the fucking West to humiliate him like that without even raising a hand."

Garl Zardite finally stood to his feet, but it was clear that the cheers he once recieved from the audience had reduced considerably. The man roared, baring his claws and his canines at the humiliation as he made a well prepared short run for the Sighter.

But instead of the Sighter to get into a defensive position, the man glanced her way, his brown eyes pinning her in place. And then it rushed to her.

The boy in her dream.

The bastard of the last Alpha of the Screamers Pack. The child Zina’s mother being Luna had been forced to accept.

Those eyes, they were the exact same. Like different shades of brown put in one to create the most astonishing dissonance.

Zina found herself standing to her feet way too stunned to think clearly. Her jaw was dropped open in shock as she made yet another connection.

The masked man.

Zardite was already on the Sighter in hybrid form. His claws darted for the other man, but the Sighter dodged it like an errant bug, his hands still buried in his pocket.

The gods, the man was just toying with the giant, showing off excellent as hell defense skills that Zina had only heard of in stories.

That was the first time that Zina understood that great mass could make for a weakness for Zardite kept falling on his own buttocks from his own maneuver while the coldly, the Sighter didn’t bother to raise his fist and fight.

Zardite growled, howled, and spat to express his rage at both his utter humiliation in the hands of a man that now seemed to be certainly far more skilled than he actually looked.

The audience grew uncomfortably silent as the humiliating display carried on for far too long than was necessary. The Sighter barely showed any expression, but Zina could almost bet that the man enjoyed humiliating Zardite more than he let on.

The sand in the hourglass trickled until all that was left was mere seconds. And that was when the Sighter finally unburied his hands from his pocket.

In a flash, he kicked his leg behind him and balled his fingers into a fist and than smashed it into Zardites face.

One...

Two...

Three...

Four...

Five....

Five teeth flew from Zardites mouth in a pool of blood and spittle as the man’s eyes turned in bewilderment before he crashed into the hard ground, his body unmoving and unusually still.

Then time was up.

"The Sighter wins this round!" The announcer spoke matter of factly into the voice amplifier, while the crowd still remained silent for a while... and then they erupted in cheers for the new hero, or the unpolished diamond as Zina had named the man.

But she was beginning to realize that maybe she had it all wrong. The Sighter might not be an unpolished diamond but one that had been polished for years just to shine for this moment.

He approached the Dais, and as Zina had promised, she held out the flowers for him.

"You’re the one the goddess has found favour in," she said as the man collected the flowers.

Inside bubbled a lot of questions, but she held herself back now having realized that Daemon already knew who the Sighter was, and yet, kept saying nothing about it.

But then, the Sighter wordlessly knelt on one knee before her, taking her left hand, and then kissed the back of her hand.