My voice comes out sharper than I intend.
I force myself to breathe.
In.
Out.
Think.
Security forces flood the arena now, armored units moving in coordinated lines, heavy weaponry tracking the creature’s movements.
“Finally,” I mutter.
The proto-beast roars again, thrashing as it turns toward the incoming threat.
Energy weapons fire.
Bright streaks of light slam into its armored hide.
It recoils—just slightly.
Not enough.
“Come on,” I whisper. “Come on, bring it down.”
Bron is still moving.
Still drawing it away.
Still buying time.
The cameras are still there too.
Hovering.
Recording.
Capturing every second.
“Unbelievable,” I breathe.
“This is still broadcasting?”
“Looks like it,” Fenn says grimly.
On one of the large external screens, the live feed flickers into view.
Bron’s face appears—sweat-soaked, eyes blazing, every movement sharp with focus and intent.
The commentators are back.
Louder now.
More frantic.
“This is no longer a controlled event!” Rick’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Security teams are engaging the creature—contestants are being evacuated?—”
“And look at Bron Varek!” Lenny shouts. “He’s still out there! He’s keeping that thing busy!”
