The rat couldn't believe its eyes.
Impossible, it thought.
Liora's group had not only survived the opening strike of the ambush—they had eliminated one of its own.
For a brief moment, the rat realized it had lost focus. Its gaze snapped back to Liora. In that instant of reprieve, she had already dismissed the blue bubble and summoned a green one, ether flowing into the wound in her abdomen, sealing flesh and steadying her breath.
The rat lunged again.
Liora reacted instantly. She invoked a red bubble beneath her feet and detonated it. The blast launched her upward.
She soared over the creature, spinning gracefully in midair, momentum controlled, body tight.
Then she landed behind it with a clean turn, boots scraping Liora turned.
The rat followed.
She sprinted toward the clash between Emma and Alex.
The fight was stalled. Emma kept throwing punch after punch, raw power and fury behind every strike.
Alex kept dodging, precise, patient, never committing. The balance was clear: if it continued like this, Emma would tire—and the moment she slowed, Alex would land a lethal blow.
At the same time, Liora understood her own situation. She wouldn't defeat the rat. At best, she could delay her own loss.
So she chose to change the battlefield.
To switch dance partners.
"Emma!" Liora shouted. "Come here!"
Emma heard it instantly. She understood without explanation. She broke off the exchange and ran toward Liora, boots hammering stone as Alex was forced to halt and reassess.
The rhythm of the fight shattered.
The balance shifted.
Liora reached Alex as she summoned blue bubbles around both hands.
Alex struck first, the stinger on his right hand snapping forward. Liora met it head-on, deflecting the blow with her left bubble. The exchange repeated—attack, deflect, reset—over and over, a tight, lethal rhythm.
Then Liora stopped dodging.
When Alex attacked again, she didn't redirect. She pressed forward. At the instant their strikes met, the blue bubble slid from her hand onto his.
Alex tried to pull back. He couldn't.
It was as if his arm had been chained in midair.
Panic flashed across his face. He attacked with his other hand.
Liora did the same.
Another blue bubble transferred. Another limb locked.
Suddenly Alex stood frozen, both arms bound in the air.
Like if they were suspended by invisible restraints.
Liora stepped in.
Her right fist surrounded by a red bubble.
The punch landed.
The bubble detonated point-blank against Alex's head. With his arms immobilized, there was nowhere for the force to go.
The impact crushed through him in full, snapping his body backward as blood and breath burst from his mouth.
His legs gave out.
Alex dropped to his knees, head hanging
And the blue bubbles shattered.
With nothing holding him anymore, Alex collapsed, crashing to the ground in a lifeless sprawl.
Emma reached Michael.
She dropped to all fours and charged. As she closed the distance, she activated Primordial Strength. Ether flared through her muscles as she threw a right punch. The intelligent rat sidestepped at the last second.
Emma's fist slammed into the wall instead. Stone cracked outward in a spiderweb of fractures.
"No one here willing to trade punches or what?"
Emma snarled.
She charged again and leapt, driving a blow straight toward the rat's head.
This time, the rat didn't dodge.
It blocked.
Pain rippled through both of them. The impact echoed. As Emma landed, Michael counterattacked instantly. Emma raised her arm to block, but the rat's claws raked across it anyway.
Four deep gashes opened.
Blood splattered onto the stone floor.
Emma drove a punch into Michael's stomach, launching the rat backward.
They charged at the same time.
Both leapt into the air.
Michael struck first. His claws ripped across Emma's uniform, tearing fabric and flesh alike, carving four burning lines across her abdomen.
But Emma didn't slow.
She ignored the pain, ignored the blood, and answered with a hammering blow to the rat's head.
The impact left Michael stunned.
Emma hit the ground first. The rat, still dazed, spun and lashed out with its tail.
Emma blocked the strike, fingers closing around the thick muscle.
She twisted.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then she hurled the rat across the cavern.
Emma didn't wait.
She sprinted toward the rat.
Michael slammed into the wall. The impact shattered stone, the wall collapsing as fragments rained down onto the floor.
She leapt.
Michael tried to run, but he couldn't.
Both fists came down like hammers, driving into the rat with crushing force as the cave echoed with the sound of bone, stone, and raw power colliding.
Rylan was locked in combat with Brad.
Both sabers moved without pause, flashing one after another in relentless succession. Rylan attacked nonstop, his rhythm brutal and precise.
Brad, burdened by a single heavy weapon, had no room to counterattack—only to defend, block after block, forced backward by the pressure.
After a long stretch of uninterrupted assault, Rylan changed tactics.
He brought his right saber down in a sharp downward arc. Brad reacted instantly, raising his weapon to block
Rylan released the saber mid-swing.
He dropped low and slashed with the other blade, a clean cut across Brad's thigh.
Brad grunted and stumbled back.
Rylan didn't give him a second to breathe.
He caught the falling saber and launched a double low strike toward Brad's legs. In that instant, Rylan thought he had him—no space to retreat, no safe block without leaving the upper body exposed.
But Brad did something Rylan didn't expect.
He leapt backward, planted his foot against the wall, and launched himself high into the air. With a savage roar, he brought his heavy axe crashing straight down.
Rylan rolled to the side.
The axe slammed into the ground, stone splitting apart as deep cracks spiderwebbed outward. The impact thundered through the cavern.
Rylan rose into stance, breathing deep, then attacked again.
A thrust from the right—Brad deflected it.
A slash from the left—Brad blocked.
Then Rylan struck low.
A sharp kick snapped toward Brad's already wounded leg—but Brad twisted away at the last moment, narrowly evading it.
Still, the sudden movement forced him to step back, pain tightening his expression as he shifted weight off the injured limb.
Rylan seized the opening, closing the distance and bringing both sabers down in a vertical double strike.
This time, Brad didn't block.
He roared and met the attack head-on, pouring all his strength into a single brutal clash.
Rylan lost the contest of force.
He was driven back.
Brad capitalized instantly, swinging a horizontal cut aimed at Rylan's chest. Rylan didn't try to block. He stepped back instead, turning a killing blow into a shallow but painful slash. As he retreated, he countered—both sabers cutting low and wide, leaving deep gashes across Brad's arms.
They locked eyes.
"Let's finish this," Rylan said coldly.
They charged.
Rylan switched to a more aggressive style, exploiting every weakness he'd already carved open. He leapt into the air and brought both sabers down in a savage cross-shaped strike. Brad could only block—and the effort tore his injured arms further apart.
Rylan pressed forward.
A low kick landed cleanly this time. Brad grimaced.
Rylan struck with the right saber—blocked.
But with the other blade, he drove a thrust straight into Brad's stomach.
Brad growled in pain, Rylan didn't stop.
He stepped in and smashed the pommel of his saber into Brad's head.
The impact snapped Brad's head to the side. His body followed, slumping forward and then crashing onto the stone floor.
The blood kept flowing.
The pool widened.
Brad didn't move.
Rylan stood over him, sabers lowered, chest rising and falling as he steadied his breath. His eyes stayed fixed on Brad for a long second, until his bracelet to grow red.
The fight was over.
Then he lifted his gaze.
He scanned the cavern slowly, breath still heavy, sabers hanging loose at his sides. One by one, he took it in—the broken ground, the collapsed stone, the echoes of recent violence fading into silence.
Every fight had ended.
Emma stood a short distance away, blood on her arms and uniform torn, but still on her feet. Liora was upright as well, breathing hard, ether fading around her hands. Jhon had his shoulder bleeding, but he was otherwise fine
"Everyone alright?" Liora asked.
A series of tired nods and quiet yeses answered her.
"Hell of a fight," Jhon muttered, rolling his shoulder.
"Really?" Emma shot back, staring at him. "You barely moved once the fighting started. Actually—no. You didn't move at all. You stayed at the back of the cave the entire time."
"Well… I got shot, and I took one out," Jhon said with an easy grin. "Not much difference between us, if you ask me."
"You took one out because that one was fighting Liora," Emma snapped. "You were standing back there watching everyone else fight like a coward."
Jhon clicked his tongue and shook his head slowly.
"Oh, dear Emma. That's not cowardice—that's patience." He raised a finger. "You really don't understand the art of war. Sometimes, the most patient one is the deadliest." His smile sharpened. "You should pay more attention in class."
Emma froze, words failing her. She turned toward Liora, a look halfway between frustration and a silent plea.
Liora stepped in.
"That's enough. Stop it."
She glanced at each of them in turn.
"Rest. Let me treat your wounds." Ether already began to stir around her hands. "According to my mental map, we're close."
Her gaze settled on Rylan.
"Rylan. Go get the ant."