At Quincy's shout, Mae broke into a run, boots thudding across the wood as she darted through the oversized inn with reckless glee. She kicked open doors along the way, sending them banging against their hinges as she made her path toward the bar. Her movements were erratic, unhinged, almost joyful.
Xain, by contrast, moved with far more caution, keeping low and close to cover as he advanced. It didn't take long before both fighters converged in the tavern's main room, and for a moment, they both faltered. The place was familiar, painfully so—a warped replica of the Raging Eagle, but far larger, stretched out beneath the open sky. The absence of a roof only made the dissonance worse. For a second, it felt like walking through a half-remembered dream, their minds catching on the difference in scale.
Their eyes met.
Mae's lips curled into a wicked grin. "Hey~ it's finally time to do this~" she purred, her voice lilting with excitement. She began sauntering forward, flexing her fingers, her eyes locked on him like a predator savoring the moment before the pounce.
"I guess it is," Xain muttered nervously, he reached for a nearby glass bottle. With a sudden motion, he hurled it toward her.
"And we're off—with Xain using his dirty tactics right from the start!" Quincy called from above.
Mae's grin only widened as she ducked low, the bottle whistling harmlessly overhead.
Xain was already on her, lunging in with a shaky punch. It lacked force, and Mae saw it coming a mile away. She snatched his wrist mid-swing, fingers clamping tight around his forearm.
"Come on, come on…" she murmured, eyes glinting. "Don't hold back~"
Then she lifted him with ease, pivoted, and slammed him through the nearest table with a loud crack. Splinters flew. Xain hit the floor hard, gasping, but there was no time to recover—Mae's boot was already coming down toward his face. He barely rolled aside in time as her heel shattered the wooden boards, the impact sending fragments skittering across the floor.
"First exchange and it looks like Xain is being easily overpowered!" Quincy announced.
In the stands, Nori leaned forward in his seat, knuckles white. Larkin's voice cracked as he muttered, "Tha-that stomp wasn't holdin' anythin' back."
Zee said nothing. Her brows furrowed, heart pounding, breath stuck in her throat. *Come on Mae… what are you doing…?*
Elsewhere, Clara sat frozen, eyes wide. "Couldn't that have… killed him?" she asked softly.
Elsa didn't hesitate. "Yes. It could have."
Back in the arena, Mae stood over Xain again. "You can't win if you hold back, you know?" she said, licking her lips.
Xain's breathing hitched.
"Is it… because I look like Zee?"
His eyes widened.
Mae tilted her head. "Ah~ looks like I got it right," she whispered, then dashed forward.
Her kick lashed out toward his ribs—Xain brought up his right forearm just in time. The angelic armor nullified the strike entirely, but the force still slid him back, his left foot scraping hard against the floorboards. He didn't have time to recover before Mae closed in again. Her fist slammed into his chest, sending him crashing into the far wall.
Pain rattled through his body. The armor had saved him—his chest plate nullifying the impact—but his back and sides weren't so lucky. He slid down the wall, gasping for air.
"This is so one-sided! But we've seen unbelievable comebacks before!" Quincy cried out, voice echoing through the coliseum. "Let's see if we see another one today!"
Mae closed the distance with a slow, deliberate stride. "I haven't even used my daggers yet," she said, voice soft and cruel. "And you haven't landed a single hit."
"How do you think that poor albino is going to feel?" she added while raising her fist. "How's he going to help his mother when you lose?"
Xain's fingers twitched at her words. Mae raised her fist, aiming for his face—fast, precise—but he ducked under it in time, slipping low and pivoting around her. He lashed out with a kick toward the back of her knee, only for her leg to lift gracefully, dodging the strike without losing balance.
"That's more like it!" she beamed, eyes flashing as she twisted to throw another punch. "You just needed proper motivation!"
Xain caught the punch with his left forearm and immediately swung an elbow up toward her jaw. She blocked it with ease, caught his arm, and with a sharp turn of her hips, hurled him straight into the bar. His side slammed hard against the edge, forcing a grunt from him as he crumpled halfway over it.
"But you're still weaker than me~ How sad~" Mae cooed, her tone like syrup. Xain clenched his jaw, pain burning through his ribs as he scrambled to his feet, sweeping his arm across the bar to grab anything he could reach—bottles, jars, a dusty tankard—and hurled them all at her one after another.
"Can you not taunt me while you kick my butt!?" he snapped.
Mae danced through the barrage, head tilting and body weaving with uncanny ease. Her elven perception tracked every bottle before it left his hand—her agility let her flow through the chaos like it was a game.
"But don't you get it?" she purred, closing the distance with sudden speed. She leaned in and lightly pressed a finger against his lips. "That's half the fun~"
She shoved him backward onto the bar, his spine clattering against the wood. The positioning—his legs raised, her looming over—left the moment twisted, almost too close, too suggestive. Xain gritted his teeth and moved to clamp his legs around her waist, hoping to reverse their positions, but she caught his thigh mid-move with her left hand and squeezed, stopping him cold.
"Goodnight~" she whispered.
Her other hand dipped behind her back and reemerged gripping a dagger—she didn't stab with it, just flipped it in her grasp and drove the pommel down onto his skull with brutal force. The bar beneath him exploded in splinters from the impact, a puff of dust rising as wood shattered beneath the blow.
Up in the stands, the panic was immediate. Clara jolted upright. Nori and Zee froze. Larkin looked slack jawed.
When the dust cleared, Xain lay motionless. Blood ran down his face from a gash along his hairline. His arms hung limp over the broken bar.
"Aw~ I thought you could take more than that," Mae pouted, slipping the dagger back into its sheath with a flick of her wrist.
Inside Xain's mind, Ercale sighed and slouched back on the couch, one leg draped over the other as he watched the screen flicker.
"Well, I don't know what else I expected," he muttered. "Didn't even use that Hatred of his. Up against an elf? Hah…"
Suddenly, the cushion beside him dipped.
"Ow…" a voice groaned.
Ercale turned and raised a brow. Xain sat there, clutching his head, face twisted in pain.
"Oh hey, ape. Didn't expect to see you so soon," Ercale said, almost amused.
"Did I… lose?" Xain asked, glancing around the room that reflected the inside of his mind.
"Looks like it." Ercale shrugged, as Xain's expression fell.
"Crap, but I have to—"
A firm slap landed on his shoulder. Ercale pointed toward the TV. "Hey, look."
Xain turned—and froze.
Back in the arena, just as Quincy drew breath to declare the match over, the broken body on the bar began to move. Slow at first, then more steadily. 'Xain' pushed upright with a small groan, blood still streaked across 'his' face.
"Ow~ that hurt a lot," 'he' muttered—with a girl's voice. "That could've killed me, you know?"
Mae raised a brow. Then her smirk returned. "Ohhh~ you're using that again, huh? Think that'll save you this time, Xain?"
'Xain' giggled softly. One hand reached up to comb through blood-matted hair, restyling it with practiced care until one eye was hidden behind a neatly parted wave.
"Xain?" 'he' echoed, voice lilting. A teasing grin tugged at 'his' lips.
"Xain's not here, sweetie."
Mae's expression twitched. She blinked. The air around 'Xain' had changed—shifted. Like pressure building before a storm.
The smile sharpened. The grin widened.
"Call me… Annie."