They stepped outside into the open space near Mina's hut, a stretch of packed earth bordered by low stone walls and half-buried tools. Darkness had already claimed the village. Lanterns flickered along the paths, their light cutting uneven shapes across the open ground.
Victor finished strapping on his armor in silence. He set Midnight Lake on his arm and rested Midnight Thunder against the ground, breathing slow and measured. This wasn't about skill. It was about how long he could last.
Arin checked his sword once, fingers brushing the cloth-wrapped hilt of Midnight Howl. He didn't draw it yet. His right hand flexed unconsciously, already tense.
Raul bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, rolling his shoulders, twin daggers loose in his grip. He looked relaxed, but his eyes never stopped moving, measuring distance, noting Rasir's stance, tracking how the spear rested against his palm.
Rasir stood opposite them, spear in hand, no armor, no extra protection. Just worn clothes, scarred hands, and a posture that said he'd done this more times than any of them could count.
Before anyone moved, the three of them leaned together.
"Ten blows," Victor said quietly. "Not ten hits. Ten committed attacks."
Arin nodded. "Even if only one of us is standing by the end of it, it's a win for us."
Raul shrugged. "So don't get flashy. Just make it last."
Victor leaned in, lowering his voice."That's what she sa—"
Arin and Raul shot him the same look.
"No time for jokes now, man," Arin said. "We're about to get whooped."
"Yes, Sir."
Victor took the front without argument. Shield raised, hammer ready. Arin positioned just behind his right shoulder, close enough to support, far enough not to get tangled. Raul faded backward, then sideways, already moving.
Rasir watched all of it.
"Ready?" he asked.
No one answered.
Rasir stepped forward and thrust.
The first blow came fast. Faster than Arin expected.
Victor caught it on his shield, the impact rattling through his arm and straight into his shoulder. The force was clean and efficient, with no wasted motion. Rasir didn't pull back much either. He flowed straight into the second strike, spear sliding along the rim of the shield, aiming low.
Victor adjusted, hammer bracing against the ground as he absorbed it.
"One," Raul muttered under his breath.
Raul moved.
He flashed in from the side, daggers aiming for Rasir's ribs. Not a killing strike, just pressure. Rasir pivoted, spear snapping backward without even looking. Raul twisted mid-step, the spear tip passing where his chest had been a moment earlier.
Rasir didn't chase him.
Instead, he stepped into Victor.
The third blow wasn't a thrust. It was a sweeping strike aimed at Victor's legs. Victor dropped his center of gravity, shield angled down, but the impact still knocked him back half a step. Dirt sprayed under his boots.
Arin struck then.
Midnight Howl slid in from the side, blade aimed for Rasir's forearm. Rasir withdrew just enough, the edge grazing cloth instead of flesh. The spear butt slammed backward, catching Arin in the ribs and knocking the breath out of him.
"Three," Raul said, circling wider now.
Rasir's eyes flicked to him.
That was all Raul needed.
He darted in again, faster this time, daggers flashing toward Rasir's thigh. Rasir shifted his footing and blocked with the spear shaft, wood and steel ringing out. Raul retreated instantly, not pressing.
The fourth blow came straight at Victor's head.
Victor raised the shield just in time. The impact drove him to one knee. His arm screamed in protest, bones rattling inside the armor. He held.
Arin stepped forward, slashing low, forcing Rasir to move back for the first time.
Rasir smiled.
"Good," he said, and attacked again.
The fifth and sixth blows came in a blur, one at Victor's shield, the next snapping toward Arin's sword arm. Arin barely got his blade up in time. The spear struck steel, shock traveling straight through his wrist. His fingers went numb for a heartbeat.
Raul tried to exploit it.
He used Flowstep, appearing behind Rasir, daggers aimed for the back of his knee.
Rasir spun.
The spear shaft caught Raul mid-air, knocking him sideways. Raul hit the ground hard, rolled, and came up coughing.
"Seven," Victor said through clenched teeth.
Victor pushed forward, shield first, hammer swinging in a heavy arc. Rasir parried, redirecting the hammer rather than stopping it outright. The force still jolted Rasir's shoulder.
The eighth blow came as a counter, straight into Victor's chest.
The shield cracked.
Victor flew backward and hit the ground hard, armor scraping stone. He didn't get back up.
"Victor!" Arin shouted.
Raul tried to stand. Rasir didn't let him.
The ninth blow struck Raul square in the side, spear haft slamming into his ribs. Raul folded, breath leaving him in a harsh wheeze. He stayed down.
Only Arin remained.
Rasir turned to him.
"One more," Rasir said calmly.
Arin tightened his grip and stepped forward.
He didn't attack.
He braced.
The final blow came fast and direct, a spear thrust aimed at Arin's shoulder. Arin raised Midnight Howl to deflect it. The angle was wrong. The force is too great.
There was a sharp crack.
Pain exploded up his right arm as the bone snapped. His sword flew from his hand. He dropped to one knee, teeth clenched, vision swimming, but he didn't fall.
Rasir stopped.
Silence stretched.
Then Rasir lowered his spear.
"That's ten," he said.
Arin stayed where he was, breathing hard, right arm hanging useless at his side.
Rasir looked at the three of them: Victor unconscious but breathing, Raul groaning and clutching his ribs, and Arin still upright despite the pain.
"…You win," Rasir said.
For the first time since the fight began, there was no pressure in the air.
Just exhaustion and approval.