A guard stepped into the room.
He didn't say anything. Just gave Jackal a slow, deliberate nod.
It was time.
Jackal didn't stretch, didn't speak. Just gave me one last look.
Then he turned and walked out through the stone tunnel.
I followed behind, but only to the edge.
The passage curved and opened out into the full view of the arena.
The moment Jackal stepped onto the battlefield, the crowd erupted.
It wasn't restrained, disciplined, or ceremonial like anything else we'd seen from the Yuxians. It was alive. Roaring. The sound shook the stone beneath our feet. Chants. Screams. Some sang, others just howled. A rhythm pounded from the stands, primal and raw.
They weren't calm anymore.
As if answering their excitement, a wide ring of pale light flared into existence around the center of the arena. No one cast it. No spell was spoken. It just appeared. The boundary was drawn, and it was absolute.
Then we saw the second fighter from the opposite side.
Tolok.
His body was lean but dense, every movement sharp. He wore light armor, twisted bark over pressure-wrapped limbs, but his face was bare now. The mask was gone.
He held two black blades, one in each hand. Neither had a hilt guard. One was longer, straight-edged, the other hooked like a crescent fang. Both floated an inch above his palms.
Jackal summoned his weapon without fanfare.
The long blade materialized in his right hand, rising from his system like it had always been there. No rain guard. No embellishment. Just steel, balanced and lethal.
He rested it across his shoulder, posture relaxed, watching.
Tolok studied him in return. His gaze wasn't cold. If anything, it looked gentle. Thoughtful.
But it wasn't kindness.
It was analysis.
Reading Jackal like a map.
The blades above Tolok's hands began to spin, slow and smooth. Not fast enough to be threatening.
Jackal tilted his head once, then smiled.
The Chief stepped onto the battlefield.
"When the clock reaches eclipse," he said, "you may begin."
Above them, a magical projection shimmered into place. A glowing orb, half sun, half moon. The moon was slowly moving across, devouring the light.
Only a few seconds left.
The crowd hushed, not fully, but enough to feel the shift.
They could feel it too.
The fight was about to begin.
And...
The moment the clock reached eclipse, Tolok moved.
He didn't run. He flew.
A blur of motion, faster than any of the Yuxians we had faced. His blades hit Jackal's in a sharp, ringing clash. Two swords crossing against the length of Jackal's single one, the force of it sending a gust through the arena.
Jackal held firm, feet sliding back slightly. He adjusted instantly and went for a counter, his knee rising, leg whipping forward into a kick.
But Tolok wasn't there.
He twisted, using the clash as leverage, and vaulted upward. Over Jackal. Over his shoulder. A sudden spin mid-air, landing behind him with blades already poised.
He was aiming to end it early.
Jackal noticed.
"Ravage."
The word left his lips, calm and low.
And then it exploded.
A thousand mirrored slashes bloomed outward in a perfect dome. Silver arcs, barely visible, humming with pressure and speed, like an instinctual storm of blades.
Tolok was thrown back mid-lunge. Not far.
He flipped once, touched the ground with a hand, and landed on his feet. Perfect posture. No stumble. No wasted motion.
Jackal narrowed his eyes.
He had to slow the pace. Stall the fight. That was the only path to victory.
Burn time. Build pressure. Let fear do the work.
He straightened and rolled his neck with a sharp crack.
"Did you really think something like that would beat me?" he called out.
Mocking. Confident. Or trying to be.
But it wasn't fully convincing.
He had been caught off-guard. Almost ended before it began.
Tolok didn't respond. Just kept walking forward, blades hovering beside him, glinting in the light.
Jackal exhaled and took a step back, sword still resting in one hand.
He needed space.
And more than that, he needed Tolok to start doubting.
Even if just a little.
Tolok charged again, this time hurling one of his blades at Jackal.
It flew straight for his head. Jackal leaned just enough to the side, the blade slicing past his cheek and embedding itself into the ground behind him.
Tolok didn't stop.
He was already in range, attacking with his remaining sword. Their blades clashed again, metal ringing through the arena.
Then the first blade returned. Fast.
It ripped itself from the ground and shot back toward Jackal, and that's when he felt it, a pressure, a force.
Tolok wasn't just controlling the blades. He was controlling Jackal.
An open palm thrust forward, not touching, but pushing. Forcing him straight into the path of the blade.
Jackal twisted, just in time. His sword swept up in a sharp arc, catching the hooked blade before it could reach his throat. Steel screeched. The swing was so close he felt the air shift against his neck.
The second blade came in from the side.
He caught it flat, redirecting it just enough to let it slide past his shoulder.
Then Tolok was on him.
A punch drove into his stomach, fast and heavy.
Jackal grunted, his body tensing as it sank in. He let it land. He had to. The blades were the real danger, and taking the hit gave him a chance to survive them.
Tolok didn't let up.
He moved like pressure given shape, each motion feeding into the next. A punch bled into a slash, a kick into a spin. The telekinesis wasn't just for show. It reinforced him. Guided the weapons. Shifted Jackal's stance without touching him directly.
The invisible force pulling and tugging wasn't trying to break him. It was trying to destabilize him, just enough for the blades to land true.
Jackal's teeth clenched.
He couldn't outmatch this Yuxian with technique. Not yet. But he didn't need to. Not now.
He needed time.
With a sharp exhale, Jackal dropped low and swept his leg out. Tolok jumped, clean and fluid, but Jackal had already moved. He stepped to the side, spun quickly, and swung his sword in the same motion.
The blade grazed Tolok's shoulder, making him back away.
Both of them were taking it seriously now.