Hiccup's Point of View
The instant the cloak hit the ground, the Monstrous Nightmare lunged.
No hesitation.
No testing.
Just raw fire and motion.
He launched himself like a blazing cannonball, wings tucked, fangs bared, claws extended to rip through me and the earth beneath.
Beautiful.
I didn't move.
Not yet.
Let them feel the danger.
Let them believe—just for a second—that I would be crushed.
Then—
I moved.
A twist of the heel.
A sway of the shoulders.
His claws slashed through the air where my chest had been a breath ago.
I pivoted, low and tight, and passed under the arch of his burning throat as his momentum carried him too far.
The fire licked my back.
But it didn't touch me.
I could feel the heat of his fury.
And I laughed.
"You're not bad," his voice echoed in my mind, surprised but hungry.
"Regretting the challenge?" I replied coolly.
He landed, claws tearing gouges into the stone. "Never. I regret nothing. Not when I get to test the Alpha himself."
We turned at the same time, facing each other again.
The crowd had gone still.
No cheers.
Just stunned silence.
I could hear the tension in their throats.
They remembered what I was now.
What I fought like.
Not a man.
Not a trained soldier.
But something else.
Something worse.
The Nightmare let out a stream of flame, sweeping the sand in a wide arc. I moved before it reached me—spinning out of its path like smoke, the hem of my armor just barely kissed by the edge of the fire.
My claws raked the ground for grip, and I burst forward.
He slammed his tail down where I'd been.
Missed.
I slid between his legs, twisted mid-motion, and used his own momentum to vault upward, planting a foot against his shoulder blade and launching myself into a wide backflip before landing behind him.
My breath never changed.
My feet never stumbled.
His tail whipped around again.
I bent backward, arching under it like a reed in a storm, and as it passed overhead, I turned that momentum into a dive.
One hand. One foot. Launch.
I struck his shoulder—not with a fist, but with the full torque of my body behind a bladed elbow that cracked scale and dropped him slightly.
He roared—not in pain, but delight.
He spun, trying to bite down at me with those flame-seared jaws.
I rolled under.
Slid between his claws.
Twisted up behind his neck, and this time I jumped—vaulting onto his back, digging my claws into the gaps in his scale plating, anchoring myself between the ridges of his spine.
He thrashed.
Snarled.
But I held.
And whispered into his mind again.
"I've fought stronger. But I'll admit... you're a dancer."
"So are you," he growled, flames trailing his snout. "That's why I don't regret this."
He reared up.
I let go.
Dropped to the ground.
And as his claws came crashing down—I slipped through them again like a breeze, rolling past the dust and fire.
Cheers began to rise—but they were shaky. Confused. Uneasy.
Because they realized what they were watching wasn't human.
Wasn't normal.
And wasn't merciful.
I circled the Nightmare again, and he mirrored me.
Each of us low to the ground.
Each breath measured.
Each step calculated.
And behind me, I heard the faintest murmur ripple through the arena:
"He's not even trying."
They were right.
I hadn't even started.
The Nightmare roared and lunged again, this time leading with a feint—a fake bite, followed by a tail sweep meant to catch me when I dodged.
Clever.
I leapt upward instead, flipping over the tail, landing square on his back again—and this time, I didn't stay.
I ran across his spine as he thrashed, using each segment of scale as a springboard before launching myself high into the air.
The crowd gasped.
And I descended like a comet.
My knee struck the back of his skull with a crack that shook the walls.
Not enough to knock him out.
But enough to remind him.
This wasn't just a fight.
It was a lesson.
When I landed again, light on my feet, claws twitching—
He stood slower.
Eyes glowing brighter.
"You're playing," he growled.
"I'm measuring," I corrected. "You wanted the Alpha. You got him. I'm just making sure you're worth it."
He laughed in my mind.
Flames spilled from his mouth like pride.
And we charged again.
Not like men.
Like monsters.
The Nightmare's wings unfurled for balance as he slammed down on all fours, molten fire coiling off his scales in ribbons. His claws gouged the arena floor with every step, hurling stone and sand behind him. His muscles flexed like coiled cables, power radiating off him in waves of shimmering heat.
And me?
I surged forward, claws out, body low and light.
No wasted movement. No hesitation.
I was faster.
I always was.
But this time, I gave more.
I let the strength in my legs explode, launching me forward in a blur. I closed the distance before his next stride landed, shifting low, then up—and struck.
A twisting, hammering elbow into his ribcage. Not enough to shatter it, but enough to make him grunt, recoil, respond.
He turned, snapping his jaws—and I ducked just under his maw, planted my foot, and pushed, throwing my weight into a driving palm against his neck to redirect him off balance.
He stumbled, caught himself with a claw—then flared.
His entire body ignited.
Fire engulfed him from tail to snout, burning bright like a living pyre. Heat roared outward, nearly scorching the stone, licking at my armor.
But I didn't flinch.
I charged through it.
I heard gasps from the stands as I dashed straight into his flames. To them, it was suicide.
To me?
Just another test.
I slid under his arcing claw, flipped off his forearm, and landed just behind his burning flank.
His tail came fast.
But so did I.
I twisted midair, planting both feet on the inner curve of his swinging tail—stepped into it—and launched off it before it could hit the wall, using his own strength to vault across the arena.
He followed immediately, roaring in wild exhilaration, flames crackling off his jaws as he charged again—faster.
Stronger.
"You're holding back less now," he said through the link.
"So are you."
"I like it."
He swept his wings wide and lunged again—this time not to smash, but to pin. He struck with one claw, faked a bite, then rotated with a slashing motion meant to trap me against the wall.
I rolled under the first claw, spun with the bite, and ducked into the wing's fold—then kicked off it into a rising spiral, twisting midair and slamming a heel into the back of his head before landing.
The force of it made his knees dip, but he laughed again.
Not mocking.
Honored.
We circled again.
This time, I let my steps dig deeper into the dirt, letting the power in my frame uncoil just a little more. My claws flexed. My armor groaned against my shifting shoulders.
The crowd didn't understand what they were seeing.
But the dragons did.
Their eyes glowed with anticipation.
Their Alpha was moving.
The Nightmare surged again—this time faster than before. Not blind rage. Not chaos. Tactics. He was testing my rhythm, watching my hips, predicting direction. He adjusted—dropped low—spun—
Fast.
I met him mid-spin with a low leap, landed on his back, and punched down into the base of his wing joint—not to break, but to shake it.
He bucked.
I flipped off again.
He twisted, and our eyes locked mid-motion.
We weren't just testing each other anymore.
We were enjoying it.
This was no duel.
This was ritual.
"You're a fighter," he said through the bond, panting now.
"You're not bad yourself."
"You're earning it."
I grinned. "Good. Then earn this."
I dropped low, clawed the ground, and burst forward—blindingly fast.
The crowd couldn't track me.
The villagers stood in stunned silence as I flashed under the Nightmare's flaming shoulder and jumped again, slamming a spinning hook kick into his chest with the full weight of my body behind it.
He was lifted off his front feet.
And landed hard.
Dust exploded from the impact.
I landed smoothly, breathing still calm.
He rose slower this time.
Eyes wild.
Fire trailing from his jaw like blood.
And he smiled.
"Alpha..."
I tilted my head.
"...I want to see more."
"Then come get it."