Ascendants of Ancients Sovereign - By Phillip Jones Page 0,114

the man’s face broke his fall as he slammed into the floor of the arena with his scream blowing the sand away from his mouth.

Sam and his demon were fighting like a rabid dog, unable to think of anything but victory. With no opposition, Sam’s next strike was wide open. His enemy was unable to lift from the ground to defend himself in any manner. Sam’s insanity took no note of this helplessness and without hesitation, he jumped into the air and landed with a crushing knee to the base of the man’s neck. Another loud crunching sound covered the man’s cry of surrender. The screaming fans were fueled by the noise, and the force of the strike left his opponent unconscious.

Sam reached for the broken right arm and twisted it into a triangulated position behind his enemy’s back. The pain woke the man from his unconscious state, but he would not be given the chance to call out his surrender.

Sam’s demon used the adrenaline coursing through Sam’s body to his advantage. The demon forced Sam to ignore his enemy’s defenseless position as they raised their right leg high into the air to bring all of Sam’s 250-pound frame down as hard as they could. The blow landed just above the top of the enemy’s shoulder blade between the bone and the man’s spine. The force behind the knee was severe enough to break not only the scapula, but also the ribs beneath it. The ribs tore away from the spine as, once again, bone-crushing sounds filled the arena.

The spectators did not cheer. They were quiet, understanding the severity of what was happening to the fallen. They knew this fight was not meant to be to the death, but Sam was too far gone and still in survival mode. He was not able to consider the man’s future, nor was he able to feel compassion. He was sure the man would still kill him if given the opportunity. His inner-demon forced him to keep going. Sam became an enraged torturer, not a fighter.

He rolled off the body and toward his foe’s stave. With his mind clouded and unable to realize his enemy was deceased, he delivered another series of thunderous blows, striking over and over again to the back, arms, and head, tearing away at them like a wild beast.

Sam lost his own gentle soul, which for the moment had no power to claim him and had turned away in rebuke. It was not until after a voice from the crowd cried out to stop, that he ceased his assault.

It was Shalee—the only voice strong enough to bring Sam back far enough from his insanity that he could once again cage his inner-demon. Hearing her plea, Sam became aware of the man’s condition. His feelings returned, and what was left of his gentle spirit was once again able to embrace him. The compassion of the doctor inside him brought forth remorse as he backed away from the body and grabbed his head with his free hand. Rage had turned to disbelief, then horror and finally, it transformed into a tragic, grief-filled sorrow.

Sam moved in and knelt on one knee. He dropped his stave to the ground and then reached in to feel for a pulse. Nothing. Not a single beat could be found. A wave of emotion swept through him as he quickly rolled the man over and placed his hands on his sternum. Thirty chest compressions later, he adjusted the man’s head and tried to deliver two breaths, but the air refused to expand his chest. The blow to the back of the man’s neck had been so traumatic that the bones had been pushed forward to the front of his throat, and they were obstructing his airway. Nothing could be done to save him.

Realizing the damage he had inflicted, Sam fell back into a seated position. The murderer brought up his knees, buried his head into his forearms and wept.

The crowd remained silent—not a whisper or comment, only shocked looks stared down at the arena floor as they watched Sam wail.

This was the first life Sam had taken. He had not only taken this life, but lost part of his soul while doing it. He knew he was a murderer, the antithesis of the healing physician his father had wanted him to be. Mr. Hyde had temporarily controlled the good doctor, and as a result, Sam was left with a heavy heart, making it nearly impossible to move.