Chapter 181: God of War
Vivian’s POV
Zaliver spun quickly on his heel, absorbing three heavy punches at once with his forearms like they were nothing at all. Then he retaliated with brutal, terrifying precision each of his hits fast, deliberate, and devastating. He struck three exact pressure points on each opponent like he knew precisely where to aim, and they crumpled instantly. Four massive bodies hit the floor with heavy thuds, unmoving.
The crowd gasped.
I could feel the electricity ripple through the entire clearing, the tension pulling tighter as people realized just what kind of being they were dealing with. Zaliver’s sharp eyes scanned for the next challenger. I found myself clutching the soft fabric of his black shirt not out of fear this time, but something far hotter. Deeper. Something primal was waking up deep inside me.
He wasn’t even out of breath. Not a single drop of sweat on him.
Surrounded by elite guards clad in black, he stood out shirtless and remarkably calm amid the chaotic fight. Every sharp cut of muscle along his broad chest and arms was perfectly defined, his physique caught somewhere between pure grace and deadly power. The dark jeans he wore clung just right, hugging strong legs that moved with absolute purpose. But it wasn’t just the physical allure it was the way his raw power thrummed through the air around him, thick and alive. He looked like a creature born of war and shadow, his eyes an intense, focused blue that didn’t carry the cheap arrogance of a fighter trying to show off. No, Zaliver was all business.
Two female fighters flanked his left, moving together with synchronized purpose. I could tell by the subtle way his eyes flicked in their direction that he’d already calculated their whole strategy.
A man suddenly charged from behind, aiming a hard kick directly at Zaliver’s back probably thinking he could easily knock him off balance.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Zaliver jumped.
In one fluid motion, his body flipped cleanly in midair, and he landed gracefully on his hands. A handstand. Completely effortless. His thick muscles flexed and held his entire frame steady, but his face remained calm, like he could stay that way all day long.
The man’s heavy kick missed entirely and retracted, but Zaliver wasn’t done with him yet. Spinning quickly on one hand, he extended his leg and swept it across, taking the man’s legs clean out from under him. The attacker hit the hard ground with a painful grunt.
Zaliver’s other leg lashed out again mid-spin, connecting squarely with the man’s jaw. That one definitely didn’t get back up.
He dropped his second hand down, braced, and with a forceful push, kicked off the ground and landed gracefully back on his feet like a dancer mid-performance, if that dancer could casually break every single bone in your body.
I stared, my lips parted, my heart pounding wildly.
He wasn’t just fighting.
He was putting on a damn show.
And I had front-row seats to the storm that was my mate.
There’s always a moment one sharp, soul-clenching breath in time when something shifts inside you forever. Mine came crashing down the second I realized the truth that had always been hovering in my chest like smoke waiting to become flame. My mate wasn’t just strong, or dangerous.
He was something else entirely.
A god. A terrifying, beautiful god wrapped in skin, muscle, and quiet wrath.
The moment Zaliver’s feet hit the ground again, he dropped smoothly beneath a fist that barely missed him and spun on his heel like a predator sizing up the hunt. Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he stepped directly between the two female fighters closing in on him. My breath caught at the sight. My inner instincts prickled.
Okay. That was bold.
There were still several others circling him, tense, observant, and calculating. They weren’t jumping in recklessly anymore. They were watching. Learning. Desperately trying to find any cracks in his stance. Even I found myself scanning his movements, looking for something anything that could resemble a weakness.
The shorter female in front hesitated. From my angle, I could clearly see how much taller he was than her, how much darker his presence felt. I didn’t blame her for faltering. But the second woman standing right behind him had no such reservations.
She went straight for a cheap shot.
Her foot snapped out, aiming directly for the back of his groin, while the one in front finally acted too, launching a quick kick straight for his stomach. My heart stuttered in my chest. But Zaliver...
He didn’t falter. He didn’t flinch.
He slid a single step to the side. At the exact same time, he let the force behind him push him forward just enough.
And then he was gone.
A breath later, he reappeared right behind the second female, almost lazily nudging her forward. No one realized what had just happened. No one... except me.
And because I caught it, I understood exactly why the two women kicked directly at each other and then stumbled back in startled confusion. The looks on their faces were absolutely priceless like someone had pulled the ground right out from under them.
Laughter bubbled out of me before I could stop it, quiet but full of pure awe. And even through the noise of the crowd, I knew he heard me. His head tilted slightly, and one corner of his mouth twitched just enough to make my stomach flip in delight.
The females backed off quickly. This time, the rest of the fighters moved back with them. The crowd murmured with rising excitement, the air crackling with tension and wonder. Everyone was desperately trying to figure out how this was going to end.
The circle around Zaliver tightened, slow and steady. He pivoted in place with measured calm, turning so he could keep his sharp eyes on them all. I could tell by the subtle tilt of his broad shoulders and the stillness in his stance that he was giving them a final chance.
That mercy didn’t last long.
Whatever patience had been flickering in his eyes moments ago vanished completely.
Then, everything exploded.
One of the fighters stepped forward just a small test, a probe to try and make Zaliver react.
Big mistake.
Zaliver leapt upward in a smooth twist of motion, flipped right over the man’s head, grabbed him midair by the neck, and slammed him backward into the ground. The heavy impact made the earth shudder beneath my boots.
Before anyone had time to react, Zaliver dropped beside the unconscious man, spun on his knees, and shot forward like a cyclone let loose.
He was a blur. A violent, breathtaking blur.
He struck low at knees, ribs, and joints, dropping them instantly. Others he crashed into, sending their heavy bodies into each other like dominos made of flesh and muscle. And each time he landed a blow, it was precise. Final.
There was no wasted movement. No hesitation.
They never stood a single chance.
I stood frozen at the edge of it all, my fingers gripping the fabric of his discarded shirt like a grounding anchor. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to.
He wasn’t just winning.
He was dominating completely.
And I... I had never felt more drawn to him.