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The noise from the crowd swelled, a cacophony of cheers and jeers that felt disorienting in my already unsteady state.
He was right.
My fatigue had made me slower, less sharp.
The world spun around me as I desperately tried to find an opening, any weakness in his defense.
But every time I thought I found one, he was two steps ahead, deflecting and redirecting my energy, always pushing me back, back, back.
Every sound, from the distant roars of the crowd to the more immediate grunts and clashes of our battle, seemed amplified, echoing in my ears.
For every advance I made, he had a counter; every strike I delivered, he had a parry.
With every inch I gave, he took a mile.
In a particularly aggressive flurry of blows, he managed to disarm me, sending my weapon skittering across the floor.
I was on the defensive now, dodging and weaving but always, inexorably, on the back foot.
With a final powerful lunge, he managed to pin me against the cold, hard wall of the arena, his face inches from mine, his breath warm and damp against my cheek.
The weight of the battle, of the entire tournament, pressed heavily on me.
My vision blurred, a mix of exhaustion and desperation, but I refused to yield.
I would not give him the satisfaction.
But the truth was becoming inescapable:
Ashale, the once-unbeatable champion, was now on the verge of defeat.
* * *
The ground met my back with an unyielding thud, the cold steel ringing in my ears as I was knocked off my feet.
My opponent loomed over me, a triumphant sneer creeping onto his craggy face.
In that vulnerable moment, I could hear the roars and cheers of the crowd above, each voice a distinct vibration in the vast expanse of the arena.
Some shouted for my recovery, their faith unwavering.
Others were jeering, celebrating what they believed was my impending fall.
I’ve always had a secret weapon in my arsenal, one I’d never felt the need to unleash in the pits or even during my time in the Ikmal prison.
But with the stark realization that I could not let another fighter Claim Nova, the energy within me began to stir.
I would not — could not — let her down.
With a deep inhale, I closed my eyes and let out a piercing, primal scream, calling forth my spirit animals.
The very air around me seemed to pulsate, the temperature dropping momentarily before a surge of warmth enveloped the area.
From the depths of my soul, the tarigon, massive and fearsome with its six muscular legs, sprang forth.
Its growls echoed the depth of my desperation.
But it wasn’t alone.
