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The salty air mixed with the twinge of blood as our battle raged on, neither of us willing to relent.
However, with Nova’s spirits joining the fray, the tides began to turn.
The hawk swooped down, its talons raking at our enemy’s face, distracting him long enough for the tiger to slam into his side with a forceful charge.
Then, in one swift movement, the sea creature lashed out, its tentacles ensnaring our adversary, pulling him off balance.
Seizing the opportunity, I launched my final assault.
Every punch, every slash, was a testament to the bond that Nova and I shared.
Our spirits, our souls, intertwined, guiding me to victory.
And then, with one final, resounding blow, it was over.
The arena fell silent for a heartbeat, and then the cheers erupted.
The ground vibrated with the stomping of feet, the jubilant cries of the crowd creating a melody of triumph.
But my senses were attuned to one thing only.
Lifting my gaze to the Prize Pool, I found her.
Nova, her face flushed with excitement, her eyes sparkling with pride.
I could almost feel the softness of her skin, taste the sweet nectar of her lips, hear the gentle rhythm of her heartbeat even amidst the chaos.
Our eyes met, and in that moment, everything else faded away.
The crowd, the sounds, the scents — they all became mere background noise.
For it was in her gaze that I found solace, gratitude, and an unspoken promise of a future together.
The crowd might have been celebrating an exhilarating fight, but for me, the true victory lay in the Prize Pool, in the arms of the woman who had saved my life, not just today, but in countless ways since our fates intertwined.
14
NOVA
The fighting pits, a swirling vortex of sounds and sensations, had been my daily reality ever since my imprisonment.
From my vantage point, I could see, hear, and feel every strike, every shout, every heartbeat.
But today, the atmosphere felt more palpable, as thick as a humid summer night.
Ashale’s form, usually so confident and fierce, seemed to waver.
Each step he took was a clear effort, and the usual sharpness in his eyes had dulled.
I felt a hollow pit in my stomach, the sense of dread palpable.
I watched as he bravely summoned his spirit animals, their ethereal forms fighting with all their might.
Yet, as the battle raged on, the harmony of the fight shifted.
The scents of the pit — the unique mix of sweat, sand, and blood — intensified as Ashale’s movements became more and more sluggish.
The clamor of the audience, their shouts of encouragement and excitement, turned into a blurry background noise.
