Tex hated all the training and discipline at the time, but it was always worth it when he knocked the bullies on their asses.

  As an adult, there had been more than one occasion when he quietly thanked his dad for forcing him to learn how to fight.

  This was one of those occasions.

  He’d already assessed the situation tactically, singling out two men who were most likely to make a move.

  The first was tall and lanky, with a greasy beard and hair that made him look like he belonged in a hippie commune. But he looked at Tex with particular scorn, and all the men kept glancing at him, clearly expecting him to do something.

  The other man, a stocky redhead with wild eyes, bristled and gripped his spear. He was practically dancing, he was so psyched up to fight.

  Tex wasn’t surprised when this man charged at Tex with his spear, raising a terrible battle cry: “Kill him!”

  He charged forwards like a javelin thrower, raising the spear over his shoulder. Several others followed his example.

  Tex cursed as he put the scope to his eye.

  Eighteen bullets.

  The gunshot split the air and echoed through the canyon. A cloud of red mist exploded behind the redhead’s neck, and blood gushed from his throat, just above the collarbone. His abortive throw sent the spear a few feet into the air.

  A few other men launched their spears, however. Dodging one, Tex almost stepped into another; it sailed past his right arm, taking a chunk of flesh with it.

  Tex growled with repulsion and pain.

  He aimed at the tall, hippie-looking guy who seemed to be the leader. His finger hovered over the trigger, but the cat girl was standing behind the target, so he swiveled to a spearman, but the petite girl and the tits stood behind him.

  Tex ran to another position as more spears flew in the air. His heart pounded furiously. Death seemed to perch over the riverbank like a giant raven.

  But the effect of the second gunshot was even more profound than the first, perhaps because it was even more dramatic. The redhead fell onto his back, convulsing. Blood bubbled and gurgled from the hole in his throat.

  Some of the more reticent men had already retreated into the trees. Most of the others stared at the macabre spectacle with horror—surely not because the violence shocked them.

  No… It was because they saw Tex had performed a dark miracle — twice. This tall stranger merely pointed his peculiar wand, and a man’s throat or heart would explode!

  They had no inkling that the instrument in Tex’s hands fired projectiles. One man noticed the gold-colored shell casings glinting on the hard sand. He stared at them, transfixed.

  Smacking another man’s arm, he pointed at the casings and stuttered: “Look… on the ground…”

  The other guy blinked in bewilderment, and his mouth fell open as if he was looking at an alien spaceship.

  The shell casings seemed to astonish them more than anything else! Just show them some shiny objects and they lose their minds, Tex thought.

  Speaking in strangled tones, they hailed the tall, lanky leader. He eyed the shell casings gravely, and a look of horrified astonishment passed over his face.

  “Don’t try me any further!” Tex roared, his head reeling with a massive adrenaline high.

  “I’ll make all of your heads explode! Understand? Go away! Don’t bother these women anymore.”

  “They wanted our attention,” one sulky young fellow said from behind a tree.

  “No, we didn’t, Nanik!” the petite girl said.

  Just then, Neesha sashayed around the outcropping.

  The men fell silent and gaped at her. She walked with a proud aristocratic air, carrying her spear. Emi peeked around the corner.

  “Elves!” the men cried. “They’re elves!”

  Their appearance produced almost as much surprise as the gunshots.

  “He travels with elves!”

  “But he is not an elf… What is he?”

  The men gawked as Neesha strode up to Tex like a runway model. Then she came to a stop, cocked her hip, and thrust her spear over her head.

  “Hear my words!” she announced, saying every syllable distinctly. “The Prophecy of Wur is fulfilled. You have seen it with your own eyes. The Hero has come!”

  Normally, Tex would have cringed. He’d always hated being puffed up and turned into the center of attention.

  At this moment, however, he was positively soaring with adrenaline. Having stared death in the face a moment before, he now saw defeat on the men’s faces; they were enthralled and terrified, especially as they listened to Neesha’s words.

  This flicked a switch in Tex’s brain. The extreme stress of fight-or-flight suddenly ceased, and he slipped into a state of euphoria. Two dead enemies lay at his feet while an entire band of savages cowered before him, and his supermodel elf girlfriend announced him as the hero of an ancient prophecy.

  It had an effect.

  He felt like a king, pumping with testosterone-fueled confidence.

  In fact… I think my balls are getting bigger!

  No… What am I saying? That’s crazy.

  But it really felt like his testicles were growing and pumping out more testosterone into his blood.

  A delusion of grandeur, surely, but it felt awesome.

  Neesha continued in her imperious tone. “Thus spake the Prophet Wur: ‘He will trample his enemies into the dust, and shatter them like pots of clay. The wicked shall tremble before him.’ Behold! The Prophesied Hero stands before you!”

  The men watched with grave faces, evidently in awe of the elf’s untouchable and terrible beauty.

  Tex felt so pumped up that he almost believed her words.

  Suddenly, he felt a breeze swirling over him from the river. It seemed to envelop him; little currents of air swirled around his legs and arms.

  His balls tightened… and definitely got bigger.

  Wait… it’s not my imagination? It’s… actually happening?

  Something had come out of the river... Some weird energy. Panic seized Tex, but it was too late to run. His muscles tightened. He clenched his fists. Pain shot down his spine and into his legs. His ribcage cracked. His bones ached with growth.

  Yes… he was growing.

  But despite the pain, it felt incredible.

  “Never... felt... more alive,” Tex grunted.

  His muscles expanded, making his shirt and jeans much tighter. Ferocious life-energy rushed through his body as he flexed his muscles and stood to a new, taller height. His cock rapidly filled up, pushing free of his briefs and unfurling down the leg of his jeans.

  What is… happening to me? he thought, genuinely wondering if he was transforming into some kind of were-monster.

  But the growth stopped. The strange wind ceased swirling and returned to the river.

  In the meantime, Neesha continued declaiming.

  “You all know the Prophecy,” she said, tracing her eyes over each man. “If you oppose him, you will come to grief. Wur has spoken it. Be wise and recognize he who is superior. Make way for him.”

  With that, the beautiful elf ceremoniously walked towards Tex and faced him. She paused in surprise and looked him up and down.

  Then she fervently took a knee and dreamily looked at his forearm and hand, which were all pumped up and veiny.

  “The Prophesied Hero has truly come,” she breathed, adding: “Even the gods recognize it and bless him with advantages!”

  She took his hand and kissed it.

  Under normal circumstances, Tex’s habitual modesty would have made him feel like he needed a shower after such a servile display.

  Even now, he didn’t want to like it. And yet... it made blood rush into his cock, and he involuntarily gritted his teeth and flexed his pecs.

  I am the Prophesied Hero!

  The thought roared into his mind. He didn’t believe it intellectually, but it sure felt true when Neesha kissed his hand. A snobby aristocratic elf babe like her didn’t just genuflect for any guy.

  The crowd looked on in grim silence. Neesha’s speech had struck a chord. As she stood up and faced the crowd, Emi came running out from around the corner, holding her little spear and heaving for breath.

  She ran up to Tex and looked up at him. Her eyes widened in amazement when she noticed how he’d grown. Then a determined frown came onto her forehead, and she flashed him an earnest look before taking a knee.

  When Tex felt her hot little fingers taking his hand, his chest swelled with passion. Then he heard her tiny voice proclaim, “The Prophesied Hero has truly come,” and felt her gentle lips touch the back of his hand.

  His cock throbbed monstrously, straining to break out of his jeans. All he wanted was to lie Emi down on the sand and feed his long shaft down her tight little channel.

  The other women appeared to be impressed by the elves’ display. The petite girl brushed her hair behind her ear and reflexively stepped towards Tex, as if she assumed they all had to kiss his hand.

  But she stopped and looked at Utu. The warrior woman stood with her arms folded under her breasts. She watched the scene impassively.

  As for the men, their attitude had dramatically changed from when Tex had first appeared. Where at first they were bold and insolent, now they looked at Tex like peasants beholding the majesty of a warrior king.

  Most of them looked away whenever his eyes met any of theirs. One or two of them still sneered resentfully.

  The tall, lanky leader stepped forward with a conciliatory air. “Alright. We will leave… and we won’t try to mate with these women anymore.”

  He seemed to take it as a given that the women belonged to Tex now. None of the other men raised any objections.

  “Give your word, Yarolk!” Utu demanded. “And apologize!”

  Yarolk fixed his eyes on the warrior woman. “Upon my word, I won’t lay my hands on any of you.”

  He glanced around. One by one, they gave their word, some of them grudgingly.

  Yarolk shifted uneasily. “As for apologizing… this is hard to accept, Utu. We did nothing wrong!”

  “Nothing wrong?” Utu hissed.

  “We only tried to mate with you — it is our right to try. Especially as you…” He glanced at Tex. “I mean, until recently, you have been without an alpha.”

  Bristling with anger, Utu stabbed the butt-end of her spear into the ground. “Nothing WRONG?” she screamed. “Bankim almost raped me!”

  Yarolk’s expression thawed, and he looked at Utu with a hint of empathy. But before he could say anything, Bankim himself suddenly jumped to his feet and stumbled towards Neesha and Tex.

  No one had given the young man another thought after Tex had knocked him out with his rifle. Some of them even thought he was dead.

  So it was rather surprising to everyone when rose and jabbed his finger towards Tex, trembling all over.

  “Face me!” he roared. “This is a challenge, under the law — We fight for all the women. Right here. Right now — or you are a coward and not a man!”

  Chapter sixteen

  EVERYONE STARED IN wonder at Bankim, who seemed to have risen from the dead to challenge the Prophesied Hero.

  In fact, the young man had been groaning on the ground for some time, but no one had noticed. When Neesha was giving her speech, he sat up, rubbing the back of his head and looking around with blurry eyes.

  When the beautiful elf came into focus, he thought he was dreaming. “I’m in love,” he muttered, raking his eyes up and down her body. But as the elf’s words sunk in, he grimaced and shook his head bitterly.

  When the elf beauty took a knee and kissed Tex’s hand, Bankim scoffed and looked away in disdain. That was when he noticed the bloody corpses.

  He rubbed the back of his head again, and the fog lifted from his brain.

  “He hit me… This dirty cousin-fucker hit me from behind right when I was about to…”

  When Yarolk said his piece, Bankim became wild with rage. He couldn’t accept that this stranger dressed in weird clothing could snatch the women away right when he and his fellows were about to get them.

  And he already had elf girls on their knees, ready to please him in any way he wished.

  It was intolerable!

  “It’s not worth it, Bankim,” one man said as the young hothead walked through the crowd to confront Tex.

  “You didn’t see the magic he performed,” another added. “The elf surely speaks the truth. He… is the Prophesied Hero! He must be!”

  “Magic?” Bankim said, his lip curling with disdain.

  “Truly, Bankim,” Yarolk said. “He points his wand and strikes a man down with an invisible blow.”

  Bankim eyed Tex’s rifle with a gloomy determination. “What does that matter to me?” he scoffed. “I’m challenging him to a duel. Do I need to remind you how duels work?”

  Tex’s mind was still reeling. The idea of some unknown entity coming out of the river and transforming him was alarming. Not to mention creepy. It was sort of like being abducted by aliens.

  At the same time, he’d never felt better, and there was no way he’d undo what had been done— if it were even possible.

  He was glad it was done.

  “So, no magic then?” Tex said to Bankim.

  The young man sneered at him, insinuating with his eyes that Tex was afraid of the challenge.

  “That’s right. No magic. No weapons. Only fists. If you’re a man, you’ll face me.”

  Tex assessed Bankim with a stony gaze. Now that they stood face-to-face, he could see that he was as big as him, even after his recent mysterious growth spurt.

  The bulky young man had a powerful build, with broad shoulders and long arms. But he was impulsive, which was always a weakness.

  “I believe this is their custom,” Neesha said disdainfully. “Men roam around in bachelor groups, and they may challenge the chiefs to a duel at any time.”

  “That’s what I figured,” Tex murmured.

  The gist of it was pretty clear. If a guy formally challenged a chief to one of these fights, the chief couldn’t refuse without being dishonored. After all, it wasn’t just an attempt to take his women; it was also a challenge to his leadership. The two went hand in hand.

  This culture must place a lot of emphasis on honor, Tex thought. Otherwise, why would a chief ever agree to a duel? He’d have everything to lose and nothing to gain.

  However, since honor was so important, the chief would probably lose the respect not only of men, but even his women. This would weaken his leadership and lead to more challenges for duels.

  On the other hand, if he fought a duel and won…

  Tex considered what he stood to gain. It could establish his position as “chief” of Utu and her friends. And maybe he could win the respect of the bachelor group, which would be a significant advantage.

  How many bachelor groups were there?

  What if I could get them all on my side? They could be a fighting force against Kdar Tol!

  Tex knew he was getting ahead of himself. It was presumptuous to think he could waltz in and unite all the bachelors under him when he knew nothing about the situation.

  But at least he could take the first step in that direction.

  “Alright,” he said, looking Bankim in the eye. “I accept your challenge.” He added casually: “Is it a fight to the death?”

  “It… could be,” Bankim said thickly. “Don’t you know how duels work?”

  “Duels sometimes end in death,” Yarolk explained. “But not necessarily. If one submits or is knocked out, the fight ends and the other is the victor.”

  “Are there rules?”

  “None apart from what you’ve already heard.”

  Tex nodded and unhurriedly turned to Neesha, unslinging his rifle. He flicked on the safety switch and tried to hand it to her.

  Her eyes widened with alarm. “You want… me to… take it?” she gasped.

  “It’s okay, you can touch it.”

  “But wait…” She glanced around at the men. “What if this is all a trick? Maybe they’ll all attack you.”

  “Upon my word, we are plotting nothing against you,” Bankim said, with an offended air. “We are not about to trample the ancient laws.”

  Utu scoffed. “The ancient laws have been trampled upon lately — a lot!”

  “Not by us!” Yarolk said adamantly.

  “The Aramantha chiefs are every bit as wicked as the Sorcerer of Darkoveld,” Utu continued. “They all strive to be just like him… And you bachelors are no different!”

  “Utu, you do us a grave injustice with your words!” Yarolk said. The ire rose in his voice, and he spoke with genuine passion. “None of us have ever acted with such designs.”

  “Only because of your weakness!” Utu retorted. “If you became chiefs, you’d be no different!”

  Tex turned back to Neesha. “I believe him,” he whispered. “Now please… take the rifle. It has no magic power. It’s just a tool. Take it.”

  “O-okay.”

  She slowly took the firearm, gazing at it with reverence. Tex gave her brief, stern instructions on how to hold it.

  Then he stepped back and gazed at her. It was pretty awesome seeing a stone-age elf babe holding a carbine.

  “What?” Neesha said, her eyes widening.

  Tex grinned. “You look cool.”

  The men and girls formed a circle around Tex and Bankim as they faced off. It reminded Tex of his high school fights.

  Except this time, one of them could die.

  Bankim rampaged towards him, swinging with all his might. This told Tex everything he needed to know. The young hothead didn’t have a clue how to fight.

  Tex’s finely honed fighting instincts immediately kicked in. His hands went up, and he pivoted away from the punches, putting space between himself and Bankim. The young man kept charging forward, and Tex continued bobbing and weaving.

  Bankim cursed in frustration. He swung even harder, but his chest heaved and his pace slowed.

  “Come here, you godsdamned cousin fucker!” he grunted, and took a massive swing as sweat poured down his temples.