“Feeling better now?” Poseidon asked innocently as Drake sat there in stunned silence. He had his right hand raised with his index talon extended forward; he had apparently shot the water ball at Drake.Drake’s irritation sparked. “Like hell I do!” he snarled as he got back on his feet, thoroughly soaked. “What was that for?”Poseidon pinched his nostrils with a hand. “You smelled really bad, so I thought I’d assist you with your hygiene. Are you feeling hungry now? You’ll need to eat after the training you did today.”Snapped wide awake from the surprise water attack, Drake finally noticed that he was indeed starving. He grabbed the two bowls of food and sat down in front of the fireplace with the sea-green flames. His clothes quickly dried out as he inhaled the food.Drake sighed in relief as he finished off the last of his food. He stood up and began stretching his sore muscles.“Thanks for that, Poseidon,” he yawned as he finished stretching, exhaustion setting in again. “I needed

“Oh, that? I was playing some music in my head, that’s all,” Drake answered simply.“Huh?” Both dragons were confused by this statement.“Well, I don’t know if you’ll understand any of this, but back where I came from, my friend did a college project on me,” Drake started. “She noticed that my concentration on whatever I was doing varied based on if I was listening to music or not. So, she did a psychology research project on me for about a month and played different types of music and recorded how much my concentration varied between each type, however she measured my concentration. The results were actually pretty interesting, and I found out my concentration peaks when I listen to loud, fast-paced rock instrumental music. So, during those thirty seconds, I just got some of that music going through my head ’till it was stuck in there on repeat, and my concentration spiked during our sparring just now. The name of the song I chose was aptly named for this situation; it’s named, ‘Whit

“Thanks for the info, Brock” Drake shouted as he was yanked into the air. Drake thought it might be best to avoid drawing unwanted attention to Draco, so he didn’t say anything to the dark gray dragon. Drake and his two guards exited the cavern and started flying in the direction of the rising sun. Blinded by the light, Drake was forced to keep his eyes closed for the next several minutes as his hair whipped in the wind. His hair had barely grown out over the past month, but his spiky bangs were now threatening to cover his eyes.Suddenly, the two guards changed course and shot straight up into the sky, increasing their speed dramatically. The wind force tore Drake’s eyelids apart, and he watched as they continued to rise higher and higher, bursting through the clouds. There was an incredibly bright flash of blue light that forced Drake to close his eyes, and he heard a loud sonic boom that surrounded him, deafening his ears. Then all was quiet, and Drake slowly opened his eyes.The b

Drake placed another neat stack of parchment on a shelf before replying. “I happen to think so. I can’t really do anything else right now to prepare myself, can I?”“Yes, you can,” Poseidon told him. “There’s more to the games than just a simple fighting tournament. Did anyone give you details on it?”“Ugh, no.”Poseidon leaned back in his chair and sighed, the wood creaking under his weight. “Very well, allow me to explain what the games entail.” He glanced at a sheet of parchment laying on his desk. “The Prisoners’ Games is a fighting event open for public viewing that’s set in a tournament bracket. This year, one hundred twenty-eight prisoners passed the assessment exam, so that means you’ll have to win seven matches to come out the winner. The first round will take up the first day or two, depending on how fast the matches come to an end. The tournament will speed up as we progress to the later rounds as prisoners are weeded out.”“Hold on, this event is open to the public? Why?”

Back up in the top box where Bastian and the Dragon Council observed the battles, Reothand and Poseidon entered the room. Bastian turned around and looked at them, raising his eyebrow in a silent question.Poseidon shook his aged, golden head and stroked his beard. “We didn’t find anyone in the magical maintenance room, but we did find evidence that the lottery-system spell used to randomly determine matchups had been tampered with. All the crystal ball surveillance cameras had been smashed, as well.”Prismo groaned, covering his face with his left hand. “None of the guards openly admitted to seeing anything, either,” he added to Poseidon’s statement. “My hunch says someone with the Shadow Strikers may be involved in this.”Several sets of eyebrows shot up at the mention of the Shadow strikers. “The Shadow Strikers is that group of assassins-for-hire, correct?” Vinegar questioned. “Why would they be involved in this?”“Isn’t that obvious?” Bastian asked, looking down at the fight belo