Chapter 62: The Mechanical Marvel
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She was loud, she wanted him to hear her.
Dmitri didnât respond. Didnât even turn to acknowledge her.
He just stood there, perfectly still, the mechanical wolfâs head tilted slightly as if... listening.
Konstantin lunged.
The impact when he hit was devastating. Not because he connectedâthough he triedâbut because of what happened when he didnât.
The mechanical wolf moved.
Not away. Through. Slipping between Konstantinâs massive jaws by a hairâs breadth, metal joints pivoting in ways flesh and bone never could.
But Konstantin was faster than he looked. His claws raked across the constructâs flank as it passed, and the sound was horribleâmetal shrieking, tearing.
A dent. Deep. Ugly.
And from the seam around the mechanical wolfâs muzzleâblood.
My stomach dropped.
Heâs still in there. Heâs still feeling this.
The mechanical wolf didnât falter. It spun, claws, razor-sharp and gleaming. He slashed precisely across Konstantinâs shoulder.
Konstantin roared and lunged again, jaws snapping.
This time he caught the constructâs back leg. Metal crunched under the pressure, joint buckling inward.
More blood. Dripping now. From the muzzle, from the joints, from places where the construct couldnât fully shield him.
Heâs bleeding.
But Dmitri didnât stop, he didnât slow down.
The mechanical wolf twisted, the motion impossibly, painful and its claws found Konstantinâs face. Deep enough to make him let go.
Konstantin staggered back, shaking his head, blood streaming from new wounds. His growls were venomous, his large head ducked lo
Because heâd figured it out.
The construct could be broken.
He charged again, and this time he didnât try for precision not subtlety. Just power. His shoulder slammed into the mechanical wolf like a battering ram.
The construct went flying, hitting the stone with a sickening crash. Metal scraped. Something inside crunched.
I gripped the seat harder, nails digging into stone.
Get up. Please get up.
The mechanical wolf rose. Slower this time. One leg dragging, bent at an unnatural angle. The light from within flickeredâonce, twiceâlike a candle struggling against the wind.
Blood pooled beneath it now. Too much blood.
Konstantin circled, confident now. Heâd found the weakness. All he had to do was keep hitting, keep breaking, until there was nothing left to move.
He lunged.
But this time...
The mechanical wolf didnât dodge.
It dropped.
Low. Fast. Impossibly fast for something so damaged.
Konstantin sailed over it, massive body suddenly airborne, thrown off-balance by the absence of resistance.
Like someone missing the last step on a staircase.
He hit the ground hard, momentum carrying him into a tumbling roll. By the time he recovered, the mechanical wolf was already on him.
Not attacking. Positioning.
Every strike Konstantin threw, the construct wasnât quite where he expected. Every lunge met empty air. Every snap of jaws closed on nothing.
Konstantin was stronger. Faster. Bigger.
But the mechanical wolf was precise.
And precision, I was learning, could beat power.
If you could survive long enough.
Konstantin lunged againâjaws wide, going for the kill.
The mechanical wolf twisted. Not away. Into the attack.
Its claws found the soft flesh under Konstantinâs jaw. Not deep. Not fatal.
But there.
And suddenly Konstantin understood what it felt like to have something sharp against your throat. Something that could end you if it wanted to.
He froze.
"Yield," Vladimirâs voice cut through the arena.
Konstantin didnât move. Didnât breathe. His eyes were wild, furious, but there was something else there too.
Fear.
Because in that moment, he realized: the mechanical wolf had been holding back.
Every strike had been precise. Controlled. Never lethal. Always just enough.
It could have killed him a dozen times over.
It chose not to.
"Yield," Vladimir repeated. Colder this time.
Konstantinâs body went slack.
"I yield," he snarled.
The mechanical wolf stepped back immediately. Its movements were jerky now, labored. One leg barely functioning. The light inside dimmed further.
Konstantin shifted back to human form, chest heaving, one hand pressed to his bleeding jaw.
He stared at Dmitri or what remained of him inside the battered construct with something between simmering rage and utter disbelief.
"Winner: Dmitri Kozlov," Vladimir announced.
Konstantin didnât move for a long moment. Then he spat blood onto the stone and limped away, shoulders rigid with humiliation.
The mechanical wolf stood alone in the center of the arena.
Then it began to fold.
Not smoothly like before. The pieces stuck. Gears ground against each other, damaged and protesting. But slowly, painfully, it collapsed back into itself, retracting piece by piece until only the small device remained on Dmitriâs chest.
And when the last piece locked into place...
Oh god.
Dmitri swayed.
His shirt was soaked red. Blood ran from his nose, his mouth. His left arm hung limp at his side, clearly dislocated or broken. Bruises were already blooming across his face, his ribs, everywhere the metal hadnât been able to fully shield him.
He looked like heâd been hit by a truck.
But he was standing.
"This is cheating, High Alpha," Konstantin suddenly blurted. "This is not right. A tin wolf? Itâs absurd." His eyes gleamed with malice hot enough to singe hair.
Vladimir didnât even afford him a reply. He was watching Dmitri the way the guard had been.
I bit my lip against a retort. Who was I to speak?
Dmitri had done all the speaking on his own without even moving his mouth. But a man like Konstantin could never accept that truth. He kept rambling, but I tuned him out.
Judging by the injuries Dmitri had sustained, it was obvious the fight had been fair.
He limped forward, one leg so mangled that he had to brace it against the stone and twist it back into the correct position.
I grimaced for him, unable to look away.
He barely flinched. Just spat out a bloody tooth.
Next was his shoulder. He grabbed it gently and pulled up slowly, gritting his teeth.
I heard a pop, but it still looked crooked.
Then he grabbed his own arm and *yanked*â
The pop this time was deafening.
I had been injured in sports before, but this hurt to watch even though he was a stranger.
"Sorry," I muttered under my breath.
My heart lurched when his gaze cut to mine. Dark blue eyes, almost black, searing into me.
I blinked.
Heâd already looked away.
I clutched my chest, trying to regulate my breathing.
Vladimirâs cold hand found my wrist, fingers resting over my pulse as if trying to calm me without speaking.
But Konstantinâs ranting didnât stop, even as Dmitri took his seat.
"High Alpha, this is an outrage," he snarled, his piercing glare fixed on Dmitri, who simply sat there, swelling already slowly receding.
To my relief.
He remained quiet through the tirade.
"High Alpha, he isâ"
"Resourceful," Vladimir interrupted, his icy stare cold enough to make it snow in a desert. "Innovative. Disciplined. He advances."
Konstantin gulped, losing some of the red in his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear teeth grinding.
Then he walked toward Dmitri.
My heart sank.
The guard was already tensing, fingers flexing, ready to intervene.
Konstantin stopped just short of Dmitri, who didnât even raise his head.
"If you have any honor..." Konstantin whispered harshly.
I could hear Ajax saying something similar. *"If you had any shame, you would kill yourself."*
A shiver raked through my spine.
Konstantin paused for some obnoxious dramatic effect. "You would walk away."
"You lost. Get over it."
Silence descended like an anvil.
Because the words hadnât come from Vladimir.
I was the one on my feet, the one with my blood still simmering, as all eyes snapped to me. My mouth ran again before my brain could catch up.
"But your ego is bigger than your dick."