As the young man's grip tightened around his neck, and the cold, inevitable presence of death loomed over him, Luke's heart raced wildly.
Panic gripped him, flooding his mind with desperate thoughts.
'No! No! No! No!'
'I don't want to die!'
Despite his frantic struggles, his strength was utterly useless against the vice-like hold of the young man in front of him.
Under those cold, piercing blue eyes, Luke felt like nothing more than an insignificant insect—something that could be crushed without a second thought.
In Riley's gaze, Luke saw himself reflected, and what he saw sent a wave of terror through him: the bloodied, pale face of a man desperately trying to escape the inevitability of his own doom, a man who had been reduced to a pitiful state of fear and disgust.
'How could this happen?'
'How did I lose?'
'Me, a prodigy?'
