Stolen by the Beastly Lycan King-Chapter 67: The Gladiator Fight, Part IV

But the gladiator slave was no ordinary opponent either.

With an annoyed snarl, he lashed out, clawed fingers slicing through the air. Rhaegar ducked, narrowly avoiding the swipe, and struck back with his sword, managing a shallow cut across the slave's shoulder.

The wound barely slowed the man down. Instead, he laughed—a deep, guttural sound—his orange eyes wild with bloodlust as he circled the king.

The crowd watched in rapt silence, and then, all of a sudden, the lycan slave's body began to shift.

His bones cracked audibly, lengthening and contorting as he dropped to all fours, his back arching and his muscles bulging with newfound mass.

Gray fur rippled across his body, his face elongating into a powerful muzzle filled with sharp teeth, his orange eyes glinting with savage intelligence. His transformation complete, the massive gray wolf towered before Rhaegar, his snarling face turned upward, releasing a howl that echoed through the arena.

Lorelai's stomach clenched as she watched Rhaegar's face harden, his jaw tightening.

He glanced briefly toward the spectators' stands, his gaze meeting hers for the barest moment—a silent promise that this fight was about to escalate.

His eyes darkened, and suddenly, he began to change too, his body shifting seamlessly from human to wolf.

Black fur spread over his skin like ink spilling across a page, his bones lengthening and reshaping until, where he had stood, a sleek, powerful black wolf emerged. Rhaegar's wolf was nothing short of magnificent, his coat as dark as midnight, his lean muscles tense with unstoppable power.

The princess' heartbeat quickened as she stared down at him, completely mesmerized. He was beautiful—a shadow come to life, his fur glistening like silk under the sun, his piercing eyes burning with a cold, animalistic intensity. Every muscle, every line of his form radiated deadly grace, and for a heartbeat, she couldn't look away.

The two wolves circled each other, their low growls vibrating through the arena.

Then, without warning, the gray wolf lunged, and Rhaegar met him head-on. Their bodies collided with a thunderous crash, fur and fangs flashing as they tore into each other, wrestling for dominance. The gray wolf's claws raked across Rhaegar's side, leaving a trail of blood, but Rhaegar responded with a swift bite to the gray's shoulder, sinking his teeth deeper.

The crowd was on the edge of their seats, gasping and shouting with every twist and turn.

Lorelai caught herself leaning forward, her hands clutching the edge of her seat as she watched the brutal clash unfold.

The gray wolf fought savagely, driven by rage and desperation, but the king was faster, his movements cold and controlled. He sidestepped a wild attack and clamped his jaws around the gray's hind leg, twisting until a sickening snap echoed through the arena.

The gray wolf howled in agony, struggling to shake Rhaegar off, but it was too late. The black wolf's jaws tightened around his throat in a deadly hold.

Then, there was a final, chilling silence before Rhaegar's teeth sank deeper, ripping through flesh and sinew until the gray wolf's body went completely limp. Growling, Rhaegar released him, letting the lifeless body crumple to the ground.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then the crowd erupted, some in wild cheers, others in horrified gasps. Rhaegar stood over his fallen opponent, his chest heaving, his black fur matted with blood.

But there was something different in his eyes—a glint of untamed fury that hadn't been there before.

Lorelai's heart raced, a strange sense of foreboding creeping over her as she watched him. It was as if the fight had awakened something primal, something uncontrollable within him. His gaze shifted to the rows of knights lined along the edge of the arena, and before anyone could react, he leaped forward, crashing into them with terrifying force.

"Goodness!" The princess shrieked, her hand reaching up to cover her mouth.

One knight fell beneath the wolf's weight, Rhaegar's jaws tearing into his armor as if it were mere paper.

Panic rippled through the crowd as he tore through them, his snarls echoing across the stands, his movements too quick for the guards to counter. The audience began to scream, scrambling over each other to escape as Rhaegar's wolf left a trail of chaos in his wake.

Lorelai was frozen in her seat, her mind racing, her heart pounding with both fear and something she couldn't name—a strange admiration, perhaps even awe. She couldn't take her eyes off him, couldn't look away from the raw, unbridled power that radiated from his every movement.

"Your Highness, we have to go! This is too dangerous!" Marianna grabbed the princess by the hand, pulling her away from the lounge, her eyes wide with terror.

At that moment, a tall figure appeared at the edge of the arena, moving swiftly toward the black wolf.

Alim, his face set with grim determination, held a long dart in his hand. With a quick, practiced motion, he aimed and fired, the dart plunging into Rhaegar's shoulder. The king's body jerked as he felt the sedative course through him, but instead of slowing, he let out a furious snarl and bolted toward the arena's exit, his form blurring as he disappeared behind the walls.

"Sir Alim!" Lorelai called out to him, shaken with worry. "Where did he go? What is going to happen to him?"

Alim frowned, ignoring the manners, and dismissed the woman with a short reply. "Just leave. I will take care of it."

With the rest of Rhaegar's men by his side, he ran away, following the path taken by his king.

Lorelai watched him go, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her heart thudding so hard it felt like it might burst.

'Rhaegar...'