2
Warlord Anghar, The Colony
My beast was raging. The Prillon standing across from me in the fighting pit had not chosen a second to fight beside him. Either the poor bastard was an i***t, or this stubborn Prillon hadn’t been in The Colony long enough to choose one.
I would place a wager on the second. I saw the need in his eyes. The need to rage.
To hurt.
He wanted to come at me. To fight. To hold nothing back. I knew that feeling, that desperate, clawing need to punch, kick. Beat.
To hurt. To bleed. To feel something real.
I missed the rush of battle, the elation of victory. When we fought the Hive, we were important to the Coalition. Protecting others. Doing important work.
Now? We mined for the transport system. We counted the days and fought off boredom with every waking breat
