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The bright overhead lights blurred, turning into hazy, indistinct orbs.
My ears rang, a cacophony of distant cheers and shouts almost drowned out by the loud, throbbing beat of my heart.
And then, the most disorienting sensation of all — the abrupt absence of my spirit animals.
Their powerful presence, which had been a beacon of hope just moments ago, vanished.
The void left behind was palpable, like a gust of cold wind in an otherwise warm room.
I felt vulnerable, exposed.
Lying there, the weight of my situation pressed down on me.
I was defenseless, my secret weapon taken from me, my opponent standing tall, poised for the finishing blow.
The realization was bitter.
For a fleeting moment, memories of my time with Nova flashed through my mind — the intensity of our connection, the depth of our bond.
The thought of letting her down, of not being there for her, was unbearable.
But reality was merciless, and as I struggled to regain my senses, I knew that without my spirit animals, without the strength to stand, I was doomed.
* * *
Pain. It throbbed, resonating through my body, a constant reminder of my impending doom.
My opponent loomed over me, taking slow, triumphant steps, savoring his approaching victory.
The harsh lights of the arena intensified the sweat on his brow, creating an iridescent glow that reflected the pride and malice in his eyes.
Then, suddenly, the familiar sounds of spirit animals echoed through the arena — but they weren’t mine.
My heart raced, its rhythmic beat synchronizing with my gasping breaths.
I could smell their presence before I saw them: the crisp essence of a hawk soaring through the sky, the earthy aroma of a mighty tiger, the briny tang of a swift, deep-sea octopus.
Blinking through the sweat and dust that coated my eyes, I saw them — magnificent spirit animals fighting valiantly alongside mine.
But these weren’t born from my tattoos.
No, I recognized them from Nova’s ink, their beautiful, intricate patterns having once danced beneath my fingers.
A cacophony of sounds flooded the pit.
The harmonious blend of roars, growls, and the screech of talons against the floor filled the air, each one intertwined with the other, a symphony of defiance against our enemy.
As if fueled by the very essence of the spirits, I felt a rush of energy surge through me.
Using every ounce of strength, I pushed myself up, allowing the fiery determination burning within to guide my movements.
My senses became incredibly sharp, every touch, and every sound amplifying my focus.
I felt the cool grip of my weapon against my palm.
Relying on the heightened awareness granted by the presence of our combined spirits, I anticipated my opponent’s every move.
Each swing of his weapon was met with a parry, every kick with a dodge.
