Callum moved first, breaking into a nervous charge, sword in one hand, pistol in the other. His steps were quick but uneven, betraying the fact he wasn't ready—mentally or otherwise—to do whatever it took to win. He sprinted across the war-torn arena, weaving past scattered debris and earthen corpses. Even, in stark contrast, didn't run. He didn't even look hurried. Hands casually at his sides, he walked—brisk, unbothered, and entirely in control.
*He's not taking me seriously at all…* Callum thought a smidge annoyed. *Then again, if I were him, I wouldn't either.*
When he closed the distance, Callum snapped his pistol up and fired twice. The shots cracked through the air, but Even merely tapped his foot. A slab of stone erupted from the ground between them, swallowing both bullets with dull thuds.
"The Werewolf opens with gunfire!" Quincy's voice boomed over the crowd. "But it's useless against Even's earth magic!" Most of the spectators seemed far more interested in when—or if—Callum would transform.
"Come on, man, let me at least do something!" Callum complained, rushing forward with his sword.
"So I should have let you shoot me? No, I don't think I'm going to do that," Even replied coolly, lowering the stone wall. Callum was already behind it, sword raised for a swing. The symbol on the back of Even's hand began to glow faintly as blood streamed from his palm, forming the same crimson blade he'd used in his last match. With an upward sweep, he met Callum's strike.
The clash was over instantly. The blood blade carved through Callum's steel as if it were rotted wood, leaving only a severed stump of a weapon in his grip.
"Oh, come on!" Callum groaned, stumbling back and bringing up his pistol. Before he could fire, Even flicked his hand, sending a volley of needle-like blood shards into the gun's frame. The weapon jerked in his grip before going limp, the mechanism ruined.
"Seriously?" Callum sighed, letting it clatter to the dirt. "Alright… I guess this is the only way."
The crowd seemed to hold its breath, a mix of excitement and unease rippling through them.
"Here it comes! The Werewolf's transformation!" Quincy called, her voice riding the tension in the air.
But before Callum could even begin, Even's hands moved in a slow, deliberate lift. The ground around Callum surged upward, four thick walls of stone slamming together to box him in on all sides.
"So you don't want to see the transformation, huh?" Callum muttered with a sigh.
"You're too smart for me."
"That's not why I'm doing this," Even's voice came from beyond the walls, calm but edged. "I'm doing this to make you give up."
Callum blinked in confusion. "Look, I know me winning is basically impossible, but didn't you tell me to try?"
"And you did. Good job," Even answered as he snapped his fingers. "But are you sure you want to transform… while being surrounded by this?"
Callum's confusion deepened—until he finally noticed the small glints forming all across the inside of the stone walls. Tiny, hand-sized pockets of raw silver ore were embedded everywhere, from the base to the top. They were small, but there were dozens of them.
"…Ah." The realization sank in.
His face paled. His body stiffened, creaking like rusted machinery as he turned his gaze upward toward Quincy.
"I give up! Stop the match! I surrender! I yield! Just—just end it already!!!" His voice cracked in utter panic, carrying far into the stands.
The crowd stared, startled by the abrupt defeat. Quincy herself seemed caught off guard. "A-are you sure? The match barely started."
"Yes, I'm sure! Please, I give up!" he shouted back, nodding frantically.
Quincy let out a breath before announcing, "And with the new quickest victory in the tournament… the winner is Even Mathers!"
The audience remained puzzled for a moment before breaking into cheers, though many were still wondering what exactly had happened.
In the stands, Dirk crossed his arms. "He used almost the same trick to beat me."
"Back then he couldn't make minerals," Lia replied with a knowing smirk. "He just trapped you. Now, thanks to all that training from his wife…now he can pull that off." She glanced toward the arena. "Speaking of his wife… she doesn't look very happy."
Back on the battlefield, Quincy landed beside Even with an unmistakable pout. "You couldn't at least let the arena get some use before ending it? You just had to win in, what, under forty seconds?"
Even blinked, caught off guard. "I-I mean… I guess I did finish a little quick." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
Quincy seized his collar, pulling him down until their faces were inches apart. "You're going to make this up to me tonight. Got it?" Her tone made it clear it wasn't a request.
Even swallowed. "Yes, ma'am!"
He wasn't sure if he should be looking forward to it—or terrified.