Chapter 1

Argeia the cyclops and I stood on opposite sides of a large stone field enclosed by a finely made cyclopean wall. We were near the top of Kith Peak.

In preparation for our match, we had bared ourselves in the fashion of giants. Gone were her smith’s leathers. I appreciated her powerful physique; though I was two heads taller than even the tallest of humans, she was a head taller than me. Her sheer volume of muscle put mine to shame, as well. Her body was also bountifully feminine, with swaying breasts, a narrow waist, and broad hips. Her pubic hair was minimal and wiry, as was true of most giants. Walking here, I had had the pleasure of observing the way her butt jiggled as she walked. I was not foolish enough to mention it.

It was hard to look away from her eye. Her steel-gray cyclops eye, vertically centered on her face. When I meet a cyclops, I always get the impression that they see twice as much as I see using their single eye than I do with both of mine. Her hair was wavy and darker brown than her olive-toned skin; it was shoulder-length and not so long she could braid it. She had been holding it back with an iron hairband, which she removed and tossed outside the ring.

“Flesh only,” she intoned. It was an ancient acknowledgement that we could only prove ourselves giants if we stripped away all semblance of civilization.

“Flesh only,” I replied.

She bent her knees and held her hands forward. I did the same.

She smirked, and the skin beneath both sides of her eye crinkled. It was ... cute? Again, I didn’t dare say that to her.

“You’re a pretty one, stone giant. It doesn’t look like there is much to you, though,” she said.