Gavin's Rock (Chapter 10) - Lion's Fight

 

The Lion Fight Arena stood like a fortress of raw masculinity, its stone walls steeped in the sweat and blood of countless battles. Set deep within the Watchdog Training Center, it was the beating heart of Gavin’s Rock—a place where strength was worshipped, and weakness was crushed. The men of the island gathered here to witness not just a fight, but a ritual—a brutal, unflinching display of dominance. This was where legends were made, and men either earned their place or were broken beneath the weight of expectation.

Below, in the fighting pit, the ground was hard-packed and stained from years of combat. The dust carried the stories of past battles—of bones broken and blood spilled. In the center, a crude ring was marked, an unforgiving boundary that held the violence within its confines. The arena itself seemed alive, pulsing with the anticipation of the crowd that had gathered to see one thing: victory, and the defeat of the weak.

Up in the tribunes, the crowd was divided. The Watchdogs, notorious enforcers of the island's brutal regime, screamed Rudy’s name, their admiral and champion. Their tight blue jeans stretched across muscled legs, a uniform that signified their adherence to the island’s code of manhood—rugged, unyielding, and dominant. Across from them, the Goldminers roared for Alif, their new hero. The miners, though just as fierce, brought a different kind of energy—rougher, fueled by the sweat and grit of their labor in the island’s valuable gold mines.

The arena was filled with men, each one wearing the same symbolic blue jeans, a badge of masculinity on Gavin’s Rock. It was a sea of denim, rippling with the chants and shouts of the crowd, the tension building with every passing moment.

At the pinnacle of the arena, above the masses of roaring men, sat the Triumvirate, the island’s rulers. Their seats, cushioned and elevated, gave them a clear view of the impending carnage below. T

Dr. Paul Koller, the mastermind behind the island's psychological manipulation of women, sat with an air of cold detachment. His wife, a quiet shadow beside him, kept her eyes downcast, a perfect picture of obedience. To his right, Chase Routledge, leader of the Watchdogs, lounged confidently. His arm was draped casually over his wife, Madelyn, his fingers grazing her cheek in a possessive gesture. Madelyn’s expression was frozen, her eyes lowered as she allowed Chase to guide her every movement. Her collar, a symbol of his dominance, glinted faintly in the sunlight.

But it was Sebastian Giraldo, leader of the Goldminers, who drew the most attention. He sat alone, his broad shoulders stiff with tension, a scowl etched into his face. His wife, Tini, had rebelled—an unforgivable act on this island. The empty seat beside him was a silent reminder of his failure to keep his wife.

“Sitting alone, huh? Can’t even control your wife?” Chase’s voice cut through the air, sharp and mocking. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he leaned toward Sebastian, a smirk playing on his lips. “Look at my wife…” he gestured to Madelyn, gripping her chin with just enough force to make her flinch and put the fear into her eyes. “The lovely, fragile weakling island princess who always does what I say, because I know how to handle a woman.”

Madelyn remained silent, her body tense under Chase’s possessive hold, but her face betrayed nothing—she was practiced at this.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His eyes flicked to the arena floor, where soon the fight would begin—where he could reclaim his pride, his honor, by watching Alif crush Rudy.

“Shut up, you two.” Dr. Koller spoke, his voice calm but edged with authority. He leaned forward, his cold gaze sliding between Chase and Sebastian. “This isn’t just another Lion Fight. This is about showing our strength, about maintaining our order.” He paused, his words heavy, meant to settle the growing tension between them. “Those women? They can’t do this. They don’t have the power we do. So let’s stop the bickering and focus. We need to unite, to show them—and everyone—what the power of men really looks like.”

"Oh no, there's Lucas", Damian whispered to his cousin. "Shit, what does he want", Yello whispered back as Lucas approached them. Knowing the big egos of his cousin and Gabriel's new favorite, he anticipated some trouble. But Lucas behaved friendy, if a bit condescendingly.

"Hey, you two", Lucas smiled. "Sorry I haven't talked to you since the weapon theft ... I'm very busy now! I hope you have recovered meanwhile? Such evil women, ts ts... Wish I had been there to protect you!" Damian and Yello blushed in anger and shame, but tried to stay cool. "Very generous of you", Damian snarled with gritted teeth. "But I don't think you would've been of great help! Remember those bitches even tricked the Admirals! My father told me that..." - "Doesn't matter", Lucas interrupted him. "They surprised us with their dirty tricks, but now we're prepared! Gabriel himself showed us ways to ... but maybe I shouldn't talk about these things! Top secret, hahaha!"

He blinked his eyes mockingly. "Rudy said I could have some assistant in my new position, to be able to focus on the important issues... anyone of you interested? It's well paid!" - "No, thanks", Damian said, fighting to keep his composure. Yello also shook his head, and decided to switch the topic. "What do you think about today's fight? Who will win?" - "No doubt the Admiral will win", Lucas told them with great confidence. "That newbie miner is no serious opponent for him! I'm now sparring with the Admirals regularly, and I can tell you they're extraordinary!"

"They haven't fought so extraordinarily against the terrorists!", Damian opposed him. "Don't underestimate the miners! I say, that Alif..  Raka... something has a good chance of surprising your idolized Admiral! What do you say, Yello?" - "Uh... yeah, sure... It will definitely be a thrilling show", Yello stuttered. Lucas just laughed. "One more proof you two have no idea about fighting! The Admiral will stomp that engineer in the ground in the first five minutes! And then he will fuck his wife publicly, letting the little man watch!" - "We'll see about that!", Damian hissed in growing fury. "As my dad said, the Admiral's arrogance might be their doom!" - "You and your father should better watch your words!", Lucas replied coldly. "Gabriel doesn't like such kind of talk!"

Lucas, Yello, and Damian stepped into the semi-VIP booth, the echo of the roaring crowd filling the air as they took their seats just below the elite VIP section. The tension was thick between the boys, their conversation still centered on who would emerge victorious in the Lion Fight.

Before their debate could go any further, the door to their booth creaked open, and the crowd’s roar suddenly shifted in tone. The host, Matt, stepped forward into the arena, raising his hand to silence the masses.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” Matt’s voice boomed, “we welcome the most powerful man on Gavin’s Rock. The supreme leader, the strongest and most masculine force this island has ever known... Gabriel Leister!”

The crowd exploded in cheers and chants of Gabriel’s name as the leader entered the arena, his presence commanding the entire space. Gabriel walked with purpose, his long-sleeve black shirt tucked sharply into his signature blue jeans, the fabric stretching over his muscled frame. His dark, piercing eyes swept over the crowd, and even before he reached the center, the audience seemed to hold their breath in anticipation.

Beside him, his two massive wolves—Alpha and Thor—circled like shadows, their eyes gleaming with primal intensity. The animals were perfectly in sync with Gabriel, their low growls rumbling through the air, adding to the intimidation radiating from their master.

As Gabriel reached the center of the arena, he paused, and his gaze shifted, narrowing ever so slightly. Then, without a word, he unleashed his Conqueror Spirit—the rare and overwhelming force that only a few men on the island possessed.

The effect was instantaneous. A wave of pure power rippled through the crowd, heavy and suffocating. Some of the weaker men buckled immediately, dropping to their knees with a gasp, unable to withstand the force of Gabriel’s aura. Even the strongest men in the crowd gritted their teeth, struggling to sit upright under the immense pressure.

Gabriel sneered, watching them all, his eyes cold and calculating. “Good,” he said, his voice low but carrying with authority. “The weak don’t have the right to witness the most prestigious event on Gavin’s Rock.”

The wolves, sensing their master’s dominance, let out deep, rumbling roars that echoed through the arena, sending shivers down the spines of those present. The atmosphere was electric, thick with fear and awe.

Up in the semi-VIP booth, Damian exhaled sharply, his eyes wide with shock. “Holy shit!” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Lucas, sitting a little straighter than before, seemed unusually calm in the face of Gabriel’s display. Leaning toward Damian, he whispered with a smirk, “You know... I can use that power, right?” The words dripped with arrogance, his tone condescending as he glanced sideways at Damian, daring him to question it.

Meanwhile, Yello, pale and trembling, suddenly jumped from his seat, his legs shaking violently. “Damian... I-I’m gonna pee!” His voice was shrill with panic as he shifted uncomfortably.

“KEEP IT IN, YOU MORON!” Damian hissed, yanking Yello back into his seat with a scowl, forcing him to sit up straight despite the trembling in his legs.

In the VIP booth, Madelyn felt the crushing wave of the Conqueror Spirit as it washed over her. Her breath hitched slightly, but unlike the past, she didn’t feel the overwhelming dizziness that used to accompany Gabriel’s presence. She was stronger now—she could take it. But she kept that fact hidden, her expression controlled.

Next to her, Chase watched her closely, clearly expecting her to buckle under the pressure. “Feeling weak?” he asked, his voice smug, certain that his fragile wife couldn’t handle Gabriel’s power.

Madelyn managed a small, forced smile, feigning a slight sway. “Yeah... I’m dizzy,” she lied, allowing him to think she was still the weak woman he believed her to be. Chase’s eyes flickered with satisfaction as he bought her act entirely, clueless to the strength that was building inside her.

As the tension in the arena reached its peak, Gabriel raised his hands, and the crowd immediately quieted. His voice was cold, filled with authority. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Lion Fight is one of our oldest traditions. Two men will battle for the prize—a woman. A symbol of our dominance, a reminder of their inferiority.”

The crowd cheered, their bloodlust evident as Gabriel paused, his gaze sweeping over them.

“Many of you remember one of our legendary Lion Fights, where our very own Fleet Admiral of the Watchdogs, Chase Routledge, fought his brother, Hayes Routledge, to win the beautiful prize you see before you today.” Gabriel gestured toward Madelyn, who sat perfectly still, her face an unreadable mask. “The delicate, mesmerizing flower, Madelyn Routledge.”

Chase smirked at the mention, bowing humbly to Gabriel, though the smugness in his eyes was unmistakable. He loved the attention, loved the reminder of his so-called victory.

“And now,” Gabriel continued, his voice growing louder, “the new generation of men will fight for the same prize... a woman. The weak, inferior creatures they are.”

The crowd roared again, but the tension in the arena spiked as Gabriel’s eyes swept to the side. “Now... where is the prize?”

At his command, Silla entered the arena, her collar still tight around her neck, the symbol of her supposed submission. No one knew that she had hacked the collar, rendering it powerless. She walked gracefully toward Gabriel, her eyes meeting his for the briefest of moments.

Something in that gaze made Gabriel hesitate. His expression faltered for a second, his steps slowing. “What...?” he muttered under his breath, feeling a flicker of unease. It was a strange moment, one that caught him off guard. He quickly dismissed it, attributing it to the echo of his own power affecting him.

Silla knelt before him, her movements controlled, but her eyes—those eyes—remained defiant. “Leader...” she said, her voice steady as she bowed her head. “I’m ready.”

Gabriel shook off the unease, his lips curling into a sneer as he addressed the crowd once more. “Now, this bitch is the prize. She will sit in the cage until the victor claims her.” The wolves roared again, their howls sending a wave of excitement through the arena.

As Silla was led toward the cage, Gabriel’s mind lingered on that brief moment—the way her eyes had met his, the strange unease that had gripped him. He pushed it aside,

Gabriel tried to ignore Silla, and focus on the men. "She's just the cup ... ", he thought, and smirked. "And here we have the heroes of the day, two honorable men of our community!", Gabriel announced. "Here is ... Rudy Maybank, my trusted Admiral and brave Watchdog!" The crowd cheered, even the miners. "His advisor and assistant is Froy Hanson ! - And here we have his opponent, of the miner's guild: Alif Rakaprabawa!" The miners cheered and applauded loudly, but the Watchdogs remained mostly silent. "He's supported by Drew Starkey, another proud miner!" Gabriel nodded generously. "Any last words for your opponent or the audience?" - "I'm fighting for the miners today!", Alif stated. "That man is an Admiral, and I respect that! But ... he wants to steal my wife, and I won't allow it! Even if this means I have to injure or kill him - I will defend my rights as a proud miner, and a proud husband, whatever it takes!" The miners applauded, and Drew patted Alif's shoulders. Now it was Rudy's turn. "The stronger man has the right to take the wife of the weaker one! That's our tradition since Gavin the Great! Only the strong men should reproduce, to guarantee the future of absolute male dominance! This night I will produce a first strong son in a long row with this woman!" He pointed at Silla. "And this man", he pointed at Alif, "... will kneel, with all his bones broken, next to our bed, and watch me taking what is then mine!" The Watchdogs erupted in cheers and laughter, while the miners shouted "Never! Never! A miner won't allow this! A real MAN won't allow this!" Gabriel smiled. "Strong words from both fighters! I appreciate that! You are true lions! Now, if the advisors agree, let the fight ... begin!"

 

At the center of the arena, both Alif and Rudy tried to keep their faces set in hardened expressions, but beneath their strong fronts, they fought through the worst kind of pain imaginable for any man. Rudy could barely stand straight, still reeling from the brutal attack by the BDSM Sisters that had left his testicles in agony. The kick had been savage, leaving him breathless even now. But no way in hell was he going to let that stop him. Silla was his. She was his right. His property. He wasn’t about to let some weak miner stand in the way of that.

Alif, too, put up a fighting stance, though his body screamed in protest. He had his own secret—a pain he couldn’t afford to show. His testicles were still bruised from the encounter yesterday. The throbbing ache was a constant reminder of how fragile his own strength had become. But there was no backing down now. He couldn’t afford to let Rudy win. Not after everything.

Flashback: Yesterday at Alif and Silla’s Home

The day before, Alif had stormed into their house, rage bubbling just beneath the surface. His hand clenched a crumpled letter—its contents fueling the fire inside him. "SILLA!!!" he roared, his voice filled with fury.

Silla stood in the living room, arms crossed, eyes cold and unflinching as she stared back at him.

Alif walked closer, his chest heaving with anger. His voice was low, trembling with the fury barely contained. "HOW DARE YOU FLIRT WITH THAT FUCKIN’ ADMIRAL! YOU’RE MY WIFE!"

Before she could even respond, Alif’s hand shot out, slapping her across the face. The crack of the slap echoed through the room, but Silla didn’t falter. Her cheek stung, but she met his gaze with a smirk.

"You still have the balls to call me your wife?" Silla’s voice dripped with sarcasm as she rubbed her cheek. "After days of you sneaking off and fucking female slaves on the Harpoon? In our home too? You’re unbelievable."

Her words struck him like a dagger, but Silla wasn’t done. "And no, I wasn’t flirting with Rudy. That bastard came onto me. Do you think I wanted this? I couldn’t say no because YOU brought me to this godforsaken island!" Her voice cracked, the frustration boiling over as she lost control. "You treat me like a piece of property, and now you're angry that he touched me?!"

She threw her hands up, her eyes blazing with fury. "But honestly, it makes it easier. Knowing you’re a cheating asshole makes it easier to think about going with him!"

Alif's face darkened, his fists tightening. "What the fuck did you just say?"

Silla stepped forward, "You’ve been beaten so many times by the terrorists, you’re probably broken inside." Her words were dripping with venom, her voice a dangerous growl. "One of those beatings left you useless to me for three weeks. Three fuckin' weeks without a single erection, That’s pathetic, Alif! For a man who measures his worth by his cock, you’re a failure."

Silla glared at him, her voice icy. "Disgusting. That’s what you are. You think you're a man?" She let out a bitter laugh. "I hope Rudy beats the living hell out of you. I hope he shatters what’s left of your worthless pride because guess what? You can’t even fight. You’re pathetic, and every one of those terrorists probably laughed at you when they crushed your balls." She leaned in closer, her voice a venomous whisper. "And you know what? I really, really hope… you lose your balls or good you weak motherfucker! I really wish of it. Though Ireally wish it’s me that will ruin your balls for being such a sleazy and fucking useless husband!"

His emotions overwhelmed him. "How dare you talk to me like that!", Alif yelled, and punched Silla right in the face. Her head flew back, and she moaned in pain. Blood spurted out of her nose, and she held it with her hands. Alif was shocked about his own reaction, though he tried not to show it. He had slapped Silla's face from time to time, but he had never beaten her so violently. "That's your own fault! You made me do this! You shouldn't make me so angry!" He wanted to sound manly, but nervousness and an unusual kind of fear let his voice shake. "It's not my fault that I couldn't ... have sex with you! It was that chemical... that gas! It has nothing to do with me not being a real man! And ... you should adapt to the rules of the society we now live in! It's my right as a man to use female slaves whenever I want! But I ... I want to have my sons with you!" - Silla didn't reply, but looked at him with gleaming eyes. Alif tried to compose himself. "I will win this fight!", he claimed. "I will show the whole island what a man I am! No other man will challenge me after that, and dare to touch you, or flirt with you! You are my property! You are mine!" He came closer to Silla again, reached for her face, and pressed his mouth against hers. "Show me you're still my little slut!"

Silla snapped. Alif’s words, his actions—they cut deeper than any physical wound ever could. She couldn’t take it anymore. The betrayal, the hypocrisy, the constant weight of being treated like nothing more than a possession had finally broken her.

Her breathing quickened, her hands trembling with fury as she stared at the man she once loved. The man who now stood in front of her, eyes full of rage, fists clenched, and yet still trying to claim her like a prize he had won.

No more.

She didn’t care that she wasn’t dressed as one of the BDSM Sisters right now. She didn’t care about appearances or consequences. All she cared about in that moment was hurting him—hurting him as much as he had hurt her. Alif was a coward, a cheater, a liar—and now, he was about to pay for it.

Silla’s eyes flicked to the bulge in his jeans. Her heart pounded in her chest as she took a step closer, her voice lowering into a venomous whisper right by his ear. "Fuck off, Alif," she hissed, her voice trembling with anger. "I wish I never met you. And I don’t think you’ll ever have a son, because after this..." She paused, the malice dripping from her words, "...I wish your balls will never work again."

Without hesitation, Silla drove her knee up with everything she had. The impact was swift and brutal, her knee slamming directly into his crotch with a sickening thud. It was the hardest hit she had ever landed on anyone, and she felt the reverberation of the blow shoot through her own body.

Alif’s face twisted in agony, a strangled cry escaping his lips as the pain consumed him. He crumpled to the ground almost immediately, his hands clutching his groin as he gasped for air. His body writhed in pain, the shock of the blow overwhelming him, leaving him vulnerable and broken.

Silla stood over him, breathing hard, her chest heaving with the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her lips curled into a bitter, twisted smile as she watched him struggle on the floor.

"Fuck you, Alif," she spat, the satisfaction evident in her voice as she watched him suffer. The echo of her words and the impact of the knee strike seemed to hang in the air, heavy and final.

She crouched down, getting close to his face, her eyes cold and unfeeling. "Does that hurt, husband?" she asked mockingly, her voice laced with cruel amusement. She let out a laugh,.

Alif squirmed like a fish on the land as he curled up on the fluffy carpet of the living room floor. He couldn't think of anything else than the pain between his trembling thighs. Maybe he wouldn't even have been able to tell his name at this moment if someone had asked him. His simplistic male brain was totally occupied coping with the existential pain in the center of his identity and pride. All he instinctively knew was that his manhood was in danger, that it was possibly already broken, that Silla was a deadly threat to it, and that he was totally helpless right now. Silla's furious face frightened him deeply, he looked into her eyes like a rabbit would look at a hissing snake. "Why ... why...", Alif cried, feeling the tears running down his cheeks. "It hurts... it hurts so much ... I can't ... please ... please no more..."

Silla's rage hadn’t subsided. The fire burning inside her had only grown more intense. Alif lay before her, writhing in agony from the brutal knee she had delivered, but it wasn’t enough—not for the hurt he had caused her, not for the endless betrayals.

Without thinking, she crouched down and grabbed his balls, her fingers digging into his groin with a vicious force. The warmth of his flesh beneath her grip made her feel powerful—like all the control he had once held over her was now reversed, his manhood a fragile, pathetic thing in her hands. She squeezed harder, her knuckles whitening with the pressure.

Alif let out a guttural scream, his voice raw with pain as his body convulsed beneath her. "ARGHHHHHHHHHHH!" His face had gone deathly pale, beads of sweat dotting his brow as he struggled to breathe through the agony.

Silla’s grip tightened, and she felt something dark stir within her—a sense of satisfaction, of justice. It was as if all the times he had controlled her, hurt her, treated her like she was nothing, were finally being avenged. In this moment, she held his entire worth in her hand, and it was crumbling.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, her voice dripping with irony as she squeezed even harder, watching the tears of pain form in his eyes. The look of helplessness on his face fed her anger, but at the same time, it stirred something else deep inside her—conflict.

His handsome face, contorted with pain, reminded her of the man she had once loved, the man she thought would be her protector. But that man was long gone, replaced by someone cruel, deceitful, and weak. Still, seeing him like this, so broken, she felt the weight of her own actions pressing down on her.

She released her grip suddenly, watching as Alif curled into himself, gasping for breath. She stood over him, chest heaving, a mixture of disgust and regret swirling in her mind.

"Hope the best for you, Alif," she said, her voice softer now but no less cutting. "Just remember, you brought this on yourself when you brought us here."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving him in his misery.

Flashback End

Back in the present, Alif shook the memory from his mind, forcing himself to focus. His body still ached, the bruises from that night fresh and throbbing, but he couldn’t afford to let his pain show—not now, not with Rudy standing in front of him, ready to strike. His fists clenched, and he took a deep breath, trying to push the pain deep down where it couldn’t control him.

Across from him, Rudy sneered, his own injuries hidden behind the mask of arrogance he wore so well. Both men stood ready, their bodies tense, but the truth was clear—they were both fighting through the worst kind of pain.

Matt, the announcer, stepped forward, his voice booming through the arena. “Leader Gabriel will count to start the fight!”

The crowd fell into a tense silence, the anticipation thick in the air as Gabriel, towering above the fighters, raised his hand to signal the beginning of the brutal contest.

Before Alif could even assume a fighting stance, Rudy sent a fast high kick to Alif's head. The miner avoided it in the last moment. "Is that all you Admirals have? Lame kung-fu kicks? I thought... uuunghh!" Alif had understimated the coordination of his attacker. Rudy followed his high kick with a low one, pushing the miners legs, and Alif fell with his back on the ground. The impact took his breath away as Rudy towered over him. "Are you looking forward watching me fuck your wife? Surely she will scream like never before when she finally feels a really big dick in her ... Aaaaah!" Rudy yelped in surprise as Alif kicked his right knee with brutal force. He stumbled, and fell to the ground next to his opponent. "I won't let your dirty Watchdog hands touch her!", Alif cried, and got on top of Rudy. He punched the Admiral's face once, then a second time. With deep satisfaction, he saw blood run from the Watchdog's mouth and nose.

"Yeah, that's it", Damian shouted, glancing at Lucas. "Your great Admiral is getting it now!" - "This ain't over yet!", Lucas warned him. "That miner is moving really slow, as if he's permanently in pain! He was just lucky with his knee kick... You'll see!" - "Whoa, look at that!", Yello said. "He's strangling the Admiral... Those miners do have strong arms!" - "By the way, his wife is small, but hot!", Lucas grinned. "She will make a good vessel for the Admiral's sons!" - This time, Damian and Yello could only agree. "I would fight like that for Dinah, too, if I had too!", Damian claimed. Lucas looked at him and smiled evilly. "It might happen sooner than you think,  loser", he thought.

The fight in the arena intensified. Alif’s hands tightened around Rudy’s throat, his knuckles white with the force of the choke. His face was twisted in rage, the veins in his neck bulging as he pushed Rudy closer to the edge of unconsciousness. "You think you can just take her from me?" Alif snarled through gritted teeth. "She’s fuckin mine!!! SHE WILL SUCK MY DICK AND MINE ONLY!”

The crowd roared in approval, but to Silla, the noise faded into the background. She watched the two men battling for her, their bodies straining, their faces contorted in pain and rage. But there was no pride in this moment, no sense of being fought over. There was only disgust. These men, full of bravado and toxic pride, were not fighting for her—they were fighting to possess her, like she was nothing more than a piece of property to be claimed.

From across the arena, Madelyn caught Silla’s gaze. Though they were far apart, the connection between them was undeniable. Madelyn wanted to do something—anything—to support her best friend trapped in that cage. But she could do nothing. Chase’s grip on her arm reminded her of that. She was as much a prisoner as Silla, even without the physical bars.

Chase leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, "Remember when I fought for you, Madelyn? I claimed your fuckin’ body with honor." His words dripped with cruel satisfaction. "That’s the only reason I’m still with you. Even though you can’t give me a son like Koller’s and Sebastian’s wives." He chuckled darkly, the sound low and bitter. "Maybe I’ll take a second wife," he added, his tone almost playful.

Across from them, Sebastian laughed loudly, his voice mocking. "Yeah, no kids and your Admiral’s getting his ass handed to him!" He pointed to the arena, where Rudy was struggling under Alif’s grasp.

Chase's eyes narrowed, but he shot back quickly. "At least my wife didn’t beat me and leave me like yours did!" His words were sharp, cutting deep into Sebastian’s wounded pride. "And don’t count Rudy out. He’s the best Admiral on this island. He’ll handle this miner."

Back in the pit, Alif’s grip on Rudy’s throat was relentless, but Rudy wasn’t finished yet. With a desperate move, Rudy drove his elbow hard into Alif’s gut, a brutal hit that sent shockwaves of pain through Alif’s body. He gasped, the wind knocked out of him as he was forced to release the chokehold.

Rudy stumbled backward, his breaths ragged and shallow as he sucked in air, his throat burning from the attack. But even in his pain, he could feel the anger rising within him, a fire burning deep in his core. I’m better than this, Rudy told himself, blood trickling from his mouth. I’m special. I’m the best.

He channeled that anger, reaching deep inside for something more—something darker. The Conqueror Spirit. It was a power he hadn’t fully mastered yet, but he felt it now, surging through him. His eyes gleamed with a feral intensity as he focused all that rage, all that power, into his fist. With a roar, Rudy unleashed a devastating punch, driving it hard into Alif’s gut, right where his elbow had landed moments before.

Alif’s body jerked violently from the impact, the breath forced from his lungs in a single, agonizing gasp. He doubled over, his hands clutching his abdomen as he staggered backward, barely able to stay on his feet.

"ALIF!" Silla’s scream cut through the chaos, the word leaving her lips before she even realized she had shouted. Her heart raced, panic surging through her veins as she watched Rudy deliver the punishing blow to her husband.

In the stands, Madelyn winced, her fingers gripping the edge of her seat, powerless to do anything as the fight turned bloodier by the second.

Rudy straightened, his breathing still labored, but there was a savage grin on his face now. He had felt the power of the Conqueror Spirit coursing through him, and it filled him with an intoxicating sense of invincibility. He wiped the blood from his mouth and spat onto the ground, locking eyes with Alif as if daring him to rise.

“That’s how I train him” Chase smirked.

Alif, however, wasn’t done. Not yet.

Alif's sight was blurred, and he was dizzy. He could barely breathe; the pain in his guts united with the ongoing pain in his manhood. He only saw Rudy's big, dark silhouette, and heard his opponent's taunting words. "What's up? Lost your fighting spirit? I thought all Asians were good at combat sports, but you don't look like Bruce Lee right now! Or maybe you like it when other men fuck your wife? Maybe you want me to win? Come on, say it: 'I'm inferior, and I want you to fuck Silla'! Say it!" Rudy enjoyed seeing the weakened state of his opponent, and reveled in his humiliation. "Are you still impotent? Or have those BDSM bitches ruined your little balls already?" Rudy laughed evilly. "Now your wife sees what a loser you are... aaaaah!" Like a blind, raging bull, Alif ran into him, and both men fell to the ground, their limbs entangled. Alif still could neither see much nor think clearly, but his rage provided him a new surge of energy. Punching arbitrarily in Rudy's direction, he was just lucky to hit Rudy's chin with his fist. "Nnnnghhhh...", the surprised Admiral grunted. "I underestimated this angry little guy", he thought. "But now I will put an end to this!"

The fight was broadcast across the entire island, filling every screen from the bustling streets of the Watchdogs' headquarters to the remote, dusty corners of the miners' outposts. Even private channels overseas were tuned in, eager to watch the brutal clash between two men fighting for dominance.

In the VIP booth, Brennan, one of the Watchdogs guiding the important guests, leaned in, his voice low but intense. "C’mon, Rudy! End him!" he growled, fists clenched as his eyes never left the screen.

"I think Alif will win," Yello said, his voice uncertain but loud enough to catch Brennan’s attention.

"Shut up!" Brennan snapped, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t want to hear any doubts. To him, Rudy was the clear victor—the embodiment of strength and power.

Down in the dimly lit basement of General Kitchen, Bianca and Dinah sat huddled together, their bodies still aching from their preivous battles, but their eyes glued to the screen as the fight played out. Bianca’s hand unconsciously clenched the arm of the chair, her knuckles white from the strain.

"I wonder what Silla will do if Rudy wins," Dinah mused, her brow furrowed in concentration. "It would be so dangerous living with an admiral. I hate to root for men, but... I think Alif should win this."

Bianca huffed, her lips curling in disdain. "I just wish I could crush them both," she said, her voice dripping with venom. The rage in her chest simmered, her hatred for the male-dominated island never far from the surface.

In the luxury of Cockville, Henry Redfield and his son Jonah sat comfortably in their lavish home, watching the fight with mild interest.

"I could take both of them," Jonah said with a smug grin, his eyes gleaming with arrogance. "Do you think I should visit the island?"

Henry let out a slow, calculated smirk, shaking his head. "No, son. Your future is here, creating MANPOWER. You’ll be more than those men on the island." He paused, his smirk widening. "But your brother Yello—he needs to learn there."

In the sprawling James Mansion, Nico sat with his father Conner, watching the fight with a detached amusement. Nico leaned back, an idea forming in his mind.

"Dad, how about I buy some female slaves and make them fight? Conrad and I could bet on them." Nico’s voice was casual, as if he were discussing nothing more than a new toy.

Conner chuckled darkly, patting his son on the shoulder. "Of course, my son. We’ll make a real sport of it."

Back in the arena, the fight between Rudy and Alif had reached a fever pitch. They exchanged blows like wild animals, their faces contorted with rage and pain. Sweat dripped down their bodies, blood staining the dirt beneath their feet. Alif had lost control, his mind consumed by fury. He swung at Rudy with reckless abandon, his movements wild and unfocused, like a raging bull with no direction.

Rudy saw it clearly. Alif was losing his edge, his focus shattered by his rage. Rudy, a trained Admiral, had been in too many fights to let emotion control him. Even though his arms ached, his body battered, Rudy's mind remained sharp.

He realized he couldn’t move his hands—Alif had done more damage than he let on—but Rudy’s legs were still free. He could end it right now, easily. One well-placed kick to Alif’s balls, and it would be over. The thought flashed in his mind, and for a moment, Rudy considered it. His foot twitched in anticipation, but then he stopped.

"No," Rudy muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. This fight is about male honor. He wasn’t going to fight like those BDSM bitches. He wouldn’t lower himself to their tactics.

With a grunt of effort, Rudy gathered his strength, pushing through the pain. He shifted his weight, then executed a perfect wrestling move, slamming Alif hard into the ground. The force of the slam echoing through the arena, a shockwave of dust rising from the impact.

"EAT THAT!" Rudy roared, his voice filled with the savage thrill of victory. He could feel his adrenaline surge, and with it, his Conqueror Spirit. The power flowed through him, stronger than before, wrapping around him like a fiery aura. It was intoxicating.

The men in the audience could feel it too. Some of the weaker men in the crowd buckled under the invisible weight of Rudy’s spirit, their bodies trembling as the energy washed over them.

Up in the stands, Yello's face paled as the pressure mounted. His body shook uncontrollably, and before he could stop it, he felt a warm trickle down his leg. He had pissed himself. Yello’s eyes widened in horror, but he couldn’t control it—Rudy’s spirit was too much.

In the arena, Rudy’s eyes glowed with rage as he planted his boot firmly on Alif’s chest, pinning him down. He stomped hard, driving his heel into Alif’s gut, each blow delivered with a finality that sent waves of pain through Alif’s body.

Alif groaned, his vision blurring as Rudy raised his fist for the final blow. The conqueror’s spirit raged through Rudy, and he was ready to end it. “I’m gonna fuck your wife. Silla’s mind. Silla Maybank”

Lucas was the first to notice what had happened to Yello. "Your weakling cousin pissed himself ...  Rudy's spirit made him pee! That's disgusting but hilarious! And you look pale, too!" - "Shut up!" Damian was ashamed of his cousin (whom he liked otherwise), and also of his own reaction to the Conqueror spirit. "Gabriel said I have that power, too!", Lucas boasted. "I bet I could let both of you wet your pants if I wanted! Hahaha!" - "I said, shut up!", Damian shouted in anger. "You know I'd kill you if you tried that!" - Yello was deeply humiliated, realizing that Lucas and his cousin had noticed his predicament. He turned to Brennan, hoping the Watchdog he admired hadn't noticed it. Lucas saw it: "Why's Yello  gazing at Brennan all the time? And everytime he looks at him he blushes! I think your fucking cousin is not only a weakling, but also gay!" - "Fuck you! I'm not!", Yello squealed, covering his wet bulge. But no one listened to him, as the decisive moment in the arena had come.

Alif tried to raise his arms to protect himself from Rudy's attack, but they felt heavy and shaky. "No... you won't get her ... no...", he whispered hoarsely, but in overwhelming desperation, Alif realized he had lost the fight - and his wife. He heard a crack directly from his own face, and then there was only a deep feeling of loss - then everything went dark around him.\

Silla’s heart stopped as she saw Rudy raise his fist for the final blow. Everything around her seemed to blur as the crowd roared, but one word escaped her lips, a desperate plea filled with terror.

"NO!" she screamed, her voice hoarse, barely cutting through the deafening noise of the arena.

Silla’s cry hung in the air for a moment, but it didn’t stop the inevitable. Rudy stood over Alif, bloodied and broken on the ground, victorious. Silla’s body trembled, her mind reeling. She couldn’t lose him—not like this.

Up in the stands, Madelyn saw Silla’s distress and made her move. With practiced grace, she stood, her eyes lowered in submission, and knelt before Gabriel. The tension in the arena momentarily shifted as the crowd's eyes flickered toward the VIP section.

"My husband, Chase, and Leader Gabriel," Madelyn began, her voice steady but deferential, "permission to speak."

Chase, lounging lazily beside her, gave a slight nod, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. "Yes," he said, waving his hand dismissively.

Gabriel, his eyes cold and calculating, tilted his head in acknowledgment. "Speak."

Madelyn kept her head bowed, playing her role perfectly. "Silla is new to our ways. She does not fully understand the rules—that women must accept the winner of the fight. I, as the wife of the Fleet Admiral, wish to show her the proper way we cater to men."

Her words were smooth, rehearsed, but behind her calm exterior,.

Gabriel nodded, approving. "Go."

Madelyn rose gracefully and made her way to the cage where Silla was being held. She could feel every eye in the arena on her, but she kept her expression neutral, controlled. When she reached the cage, she extended her hand, grabbing Silla’s trembling fingers.

"Silla..." she whispered, her voice low, urgent. There was no time for emotions, not now.

"Mads..." Silla’s voice cracked as she looked at her friend. "How’s Alif? I can’t see him clearly..."

"Medics will take care of him," Madelyn said quickly, her eyes darting to Alif’s limp body in the arena. "He won’t be executed or anything. But he’s lost... and with that, he’s lost you as well. The loser of the fight forfeits the prize—and, well, that prize is you."

.

"Listen to me," Madelyn continued, her grip on Silla’s hand tightening. "You need to go with Rudy. Don’t fight it. Don’t resist." Her voice lowered even more, barely above a whisper. "Gabriel will kill you if you refuse to go with the winner. I’ve seen it happen before. Just... trust me. We will make new plans later."

Silla’s eyes filled with tears, but she forced herself to nod. Every instinct in her screamed to fight, to resist, but she knew the consequences. She couldn’t leave Alif to die. She couldn’t leave him to face this alone. Her heart ached as she looked toward the blurry figure of her husband, but she knew what she had to do.

Madelyn gently released Silla’s hand as Rudy approached, the keys to the cage dangling in his hand like a token of victory. His smirk was wide, filled with arrogance as he unlocked the cage. The Watchdogs erupted in cheers, their voices chanting his name like he was some kind of hero.

"RUDY! RUDY! RUDY!" They shouted, their fists pumping in the air.

Rudy stepped inside, his eyes never leaving Silla. He grabbed her arm, not harshly, but with an air of ownership that made her skin crawl. She stiffened under his touch but said nothing, her gaze cast downward, just as Madelyn had instructed.

Gabriel rose from his seat, the entire arena falling silent in anticipation. His voice boomed, cold and final.

"And the winner is Rudy Maybank," Gabriel declared, his tone laced with approval. "You may take the prize home."

The crowd erupted once more, but all Silla could hear was the sound of her heart breaking as Rudy pulled her from the cage, leading her toward a future she hadn’t chosen.

Rudy's face and shirt were full of blood, his jeans was dirty and ripped, but his face showed a broad smile. "I told you I'd win!", he shouted proudly. The prominent bulge in his jeans looked as if he couldn't wait to take his prize. Not only the anticipation of the first night with Silla aroused him, it was also the exciting feeling of defeating and humiliating another man that turned him on. "I wanna be fair... your former husband gave me a good fight, better than I thought. But in the end... no chance against a man like me!" He pulled Silla to him, and kissed her unresponsive face. "She's still under shock... maybe she can't believe her luck!", Rudy thought. "You're now an Admiral's wife... you should be proud", he continued. "Only Koller's wife and Madelyn are still above you in the female hierarchy, since Tini and Bianca ... ah, forget it!" He leaned closer to Silla: "Aren't you glad I freed you from this unhappy marriage? I know you are ... and I want my prize now! As soon as possible! Maybe even under Alif's eyes... before they take him to the hospital!" Rudy grinned mischievously.

Silla stood frozen for a moment, the weight of everything crashing down on her. But then, she nodded, her mind racing. This was both an opportunity and a threat. She had to be careful, play the part, or risk losing everything. She swallowed the rising fear and forced a smile onto her face, her hand still in Rudy’s firm grip.

"Let’s just go home and enjoy ourselves," she said, her voice soft but steady. Her lips curled into a strained smile as she looked up at him. "I want tonight to be about us... and I need to tend to you. You’re hurting, Rudy." Her fingers lightly brushed his arm, the false sweetness in her tone masking the turmoil in her heart.

Rudy’s smirk widened, clearly pleased with her compliance. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her as if to show the entire arena that she was his prize now. But Silla’s mind was elsewhere—calculating, thinking of ways to survive.

At the same time, Gabriel rose from his seat, his towering presence commanding silence from the rowdy crowd. His smirk was sharp, predatory, as he surveyed the masses.

"This is the spirit of Gavin’s Rock!" Gabriel’s voice boomed, his arms spread wide as if he were the conductor of this brutal symphony. "THE LION IS RUDY! HE’S WON!"

The crowd erupted once more, the sound deafening as they chanted Rudy’s name. Gabriel’s grin widened, relishing the chaos, the violence, the raw display of power. But then his expression shifted, becoming darker, more dangerous, as he raised his hand to quiet the crowd once again.

"And I have two announcements," Gabriel said, his voice dripping with sinister glee. "First, Rudy has unmasked one of the terrorists... and she is a former slave."

The crowd buzzed with excitement and whispers, heads turning as they tried to piece together who the traitor could be. Gabriel turned his gaze toward Chase, the leader of the Watchdogs, who sat beside him.

"The Watchdogs are onto her, aren’t they?" Gabriel asked, though it was less of a question and more of a statement.

Chase nodded, a smug grin on his face. "Yeah, only the best are handling that."

"But," Gabriel continued, his voice lowering as the crowd leaned in, eager for more, "we are down one man. One important man." Gabriel's eyes flicked toward the pit, where Rudy still stood victorious, his wolves Thor and Alpha circling near his feet, their eyes gleaming in the dim light. The animals seemed to sense the shift in Gabriel’s mood, their growls deepening as if they were feeding off his growing intensity.

Rudy smirked, glancing down at the bloodied body of his defeated opponent, Alif, but Gabriel's next words made that smile widen.

"Cole Walter has been... defeated. He was incompetent." The disdain in Gabriel’s voice was unmistakable, and the crowd buzzed with murmurs at the mention of Cole’s failure.

Thor and Alpha bared their teeth, their feral energy growing more palpable as Gabriel’s tone darkened.

"WHOEVER BRINGS ME THE IDENTITY OF THE REMAINING BDSM SISTERS WILL BE REWARDED AS THE NEW ADMIRAL!" Gabriel's voice thundered across the arena, the weight of his words settling like a thick fog over the crowd.

The promise of power sent ripples through the audience. Eyes darted nervously, calculating, wondering who would make the move to claim such a prize. Gabriel’s gaze, however, was fixed on two individuals in particular.

His eyes locked onto Lucas first, his lips curling into a dark smile. "So, who’s going to be the youngest Admiral in Gavin’s Rock history? The one with the conqueror’s spirit?"

Lucas straightened at the mention, his chest puffing out slightly as he met Gabriel’s gaze, the hunger for power clear in his eyes.

Then Gabriel’s gaze shifted, falling on Damian, who sat stiffly beside Lucas. "Or the one with the royal bloodline?"

Damian swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as Gabriel’s words hung in the air. The weight of expectation, of his legacy, pressed down on him. He could feel Lucas’s eyes on him, the tension between them thickening with every passing second.

"Guess you’ll need to show me," Gabriel finished, his voice low and taunting, as though daring them both to fight for the title.

The air in the arena was electric with anticipation, the promise of violence, of ambition, of betrayal. Silla, standing next to Rudy, could feel the tension building. She was trapped in the middle of this game of power, a pawn in the hands of men who would stop at nothing to claim victory.

Rudy, still basking in his victory, held the key to Silla’s future tightly in his grasp. But she knew one thing for certain—this was far from over.

Alif woke up in the hospital. His whole body hurt, and the feelings of loss and desperation came back instantly. He turned around, and saw the nurse (Camila, he recalled) from behind, bending over to sort some pills. Despite his miserable state, Alif felt his dick twitching. "It will never end, as long as I live", he thought in confusion. "But... Silla... where is she now ... what should I do?" His sad thoughts were interrupted by a  knock on the door. Camila opened it, and let Sebastian in. "Mr. Giraldo... I'm sorry, but the patient still needs rest...", she began, but Sebastian ignored it. "Leave us alone!", he ordered. Camila blushed, wanted to say something, but then decided to be silent. She nodded, and left the room.

"Already fucked her?", Sebastian asked Alif. The injured man tried to smile, but it didn't look real. "Seb... I'm deeply sorry... I disappointed you ... all the miners... they trusted in me, but..." Alif gulped. "But it was a good fight!", Sebastian said. "No one says you're a coward! If the men think about it, they will admit that most men on the island would have lost against Rudy... except perhaps Chase, Froy... and Gabriel himself, of course. I discussed it with our leader personally. He said you still have your male honor, and you can stay on Gavin's Rock..." Alif let out a sigh of relief, and he felt at least a bit better. "Especially as I told him we - the miners - need you! Your new ideas about mining technology and geology are brilliant, Alif! Thanks to you, new resources of gold are just within reach!" - "Thank you, boss... but ... I lost my wife ..." - "Fuck her! You still haven't fully understood the spirit of our community!", Sebastian pointed out. "Women are nothing. They're replaceable. A promising young man like you will easily find a new wife! Let Rudy fuck his damn prize... I know him, he will be bored soon, and look for another bitch! And you won't think of Silla anymore!" Alif wasn't fully convinced of that, but he acknowledged the new perspectives. "Right, boss. I will try to keep this in mind