Drawing in a deep breath, Igor surged forward with a burst of motion. His Wind erupted in front of him, spinning like a drill as he tried to carve a path through the storm.
At the same time, a shadow tendril slithered beneath the snow, aiming to strike from an angle Jace might not be watching. It was a multi angled assault, frontal pressure with Wind, and a sneaky stab from below with Shadow.
To the spectators, it looked like a reckless charge.
But Igor was anything but reckless. He focused on using his Wind to defend himself. The real threat was from the shadows.
Jace didn't flinch. He raised a stone wall in response, Earth magic flaring as it solidified in front of him just in time.
The slicing Wind slammed into the barrier, shearing away edges but failing to break through. Snow exploded upward in a swirling flurry, obscuring the battlefield for a moment. Behind the wall, Jace stayed focused, one hand extended, water coiling around his arm like a whip.
What he hadn't realized was that his wall had unintentionally blocked the Shadow strike as well. The tendril fizzled out the moment it collided with solid rock instead of flesh.
From behind the storm, Igor's glare hardened. He hadn't expected both attacks to be blocked, and he wasn't sure Jace had even done it on purpose. Whether it was luck or precision didn't matter. In either case, it was bad.
But Jace wasn't finished.
Behind the wall, he sent out a curling stream of water, bending it smoothly around the stone with practiced ease. It swept low, picking up flakes of snow as it moved, then snapped upward toward Igor's legs like a striking snake.
Igor reacted quickly, redirecting himself with a side burst of Wind. He dodged most of it, but not all. The water clipped him as he moved, and the contact was enough.
Ice spread instantly where it touched, locking his foot against the ground.
It wasn't enough for the arena to count as a point, but it tilted the match further into Jace's favor.
Igor felt his heart skip a beat as the Ice magic tightened around his leg, anchoring him in place. He cursed under his breath, yanking hard at the binding in an attempt to release himself, but it was too late.
Jace was already moving.
Still behind the cover of his stone wall, three spells ignited in tandem, each its own element, each deadly in its own right. An Ice spear, honed and jagged, spiraled through the air in a clean arc from the left. A Fire spear roared against the cold in a sharp dive from above, illuminating the snow with a sudden burst of heat. And an Earth spear, dense and brutal, rumbled low across the frozen ground like a missile.
Three directions. Three threats. One frozen leg.
Every ounce of Igor's experience screamed at him to move. He blasted a massive gust of Wind straight forward, trying to launch himself backward as hard as he could. His trapped foot strained against the Ice, then tore free with a painful crack, the magic snapping like it had tried to cling to him.
The Ice spear arrived first. The Wind burst was just enough, he evaded it by a hair as it screamed past, shattering against a pillar.
The Fire spear came next, dropping from above. Too fast to dodge normally, he collapsed his body downward, letting gravity and instinct take over. The heat grazed him, singeing the edges of his hair as it slammed into the ground.
But the Earth spear, low and fast, was unavoidable from that angle.
It struck him hard in the ribs, a brutal impact that sent him skidding across the frozen ground, snow and ice doing nothing to slow him down.
Ding.
Jace, now repositioned to view the aftermath, stood tall atop his stone wall. The storm and snow whipped around him, the temperature well below freezing.
With a 2–0 lead, complete control of the terrain, and sheer presence alone, everything about the scene screamed dominance.
He didn't press the advantage. Instead, he stood calm and composed, watching Igor with sharp eyes. Letting him recover.
Letting him rise.
Jace's gaze was piercing, his expression unreadable, yet the message in his eyes was unmistakable: 'Don't give up, stand up and fight me.'
Igor groaned as he pushed himself upright. Snow clung to his body, his ribs throbbed from the Earth spear's strike, and the chill from the Ice spell lingered like phantom pain. Even the scent of scorched hair still followed him, a reminder of the Fire spear's near miss.
The storm hadn't let up, and the cold no longer felt like a temperature, it felt like a presence. It clung to him, sank into his limbs, and slowed him down.
Then he looked up.
Jace was still there, tall and unmoved atop the wall he'd summoned. His magic swirled softly around him, calm and deliberate. He wasn't chasing. Wasn't taunting.
He was simply… waiting.
For a heartbeat, Igor thought he saw an opening—only to realize how quickly it vanished. It wasn't a mistake. It was intentional. Jace wasn't being arrogant or condescending.
He was just in control.
Jace didn't want to end this easily. He wanted the fight to matter. He wanted Igor's best.
His eyes said it all. 'You're the captain. Fight like it'
Igor's fist slammed into the ground, more from focus than anger. A roar tore from his chest, pushing back the chill in his spirit.
His resolve flared.
Jace was right.
He was better than this.
And it was time to prove it.