"Mae has entered what she entered last time to win!" Quincy's voice rang out just as Mae surged into Elven Rage. The crowd stiffened as one. Murmurs rippled across the stands—excitement mingling with dread. They remembered what happened last time. She tore her opponent in half. But that was Lexy—Lexy could heal. Xain, far as they knew, was just a clever human with tricks.
They didn't have long to think. The two met with a crash of speed.
Mae lunged in first, aiming a knee at Annie's stomach—just like she had with Lexy. But Annie had already shifted. Her body tilted with uncanny fluidity as she brought her left palm down on Mae's knee mid-flight, driving it downward. Mae's attack collapsed, her footing thrown. Annie moved instantly, twisting at the waist, right elbow arcing up toward Mae's jaw.
Mae's hand shot up and caught the strike just in time. She went to grab Annie's elbow—twist and trap.
"Nope," Annie grinned, already withdrawing. Her right hand flicked forward, fingers aimed straight for Mae's throat.
Mae raised one of her daggers to slice them off—
Crack.
A punch cracked into her temple before the dagger could even rise. Her vision jolted—stars burst across it. Then, with no pause, Annie's outstretched fingers suddenly curled into a tight fist mid-motion, driving straight into Mae's nose with a second, brutal hit that snapped her head back.
The Elf staggered, boots scraping across the worn wooden floor as she reset. Her stance dropped, arms loose but ready.
*I see,* she thought coldly. *Those sudden strikes—every time I focus on something, she attacks from my blind spot. She's mixing pure speed with angles I can't track. Is there a counter to that?*
Across from her, Annie bounced on her heels, humming to herself. "Ah~ You did figure it out," she said between giggles. "Not that it matters. There's a counter, sure—but you're not trained or talented enough to pull it off. How sad~"
In the stands, Clara clutched the railing. "I-is this okay? Shouldn't Quincy stop it? After last time…"
"I don't think she'll let it get that far again," Elsa murmured, eyes locked on the arena. "Last time caught everyone off guard… even her."
Elsewhere, Zee stared hard. "Even Elven Rage isn't doing anything... Just who did you become, Xain?" she muttered what Nori was thinking.
Larkin scratched his beard. "Is this a way of usin' that Hatred of his? But… it doesn't look like he's hatin'. So just what is this?"
Back in the arena, Mae's voice dropped, cool and biting. "Not talented or trained enough?" Her grip tightened on both daggers. "You think that matters in the face of overwhelming strength?"
She surged forward, weapons primed to cleave and stab.
"Yes," Annie whispered, eyes narrowing, "It does."
Mae barely had time to blink.
Annie stepped in.
Her right foot shot up and tapped Mae's inner thigh, disrupting her center of gravity. In the same motion, she twisted her hips, using the momentum to drive her elbow down on Mae's shoulder. The Elf staggered—but Annie didn't stop. Her body folded low, sweeping behind Mae with a spinning back kick, heel catching the Elf's ankle just enough to send her stumbling.
Then she was on her again.
A knee hammered into Mae's ribs. Her hand lashed out, aiming to parry—but Annie ducked beneath and struck her armpit with two sharp knuckles. Another jab hit her collarbone. Then a palm struck her chin. Then her gut. Then her ribs again. Elbow to the side. Flick to the eye. Light chop to the tricep. Two punches to the gut. Hook to the liver. Headbutt.
Mae tried to block—Annie flowed around the defenses.
Every strike was placed, every motion fluid. She weaved like wind, bent like wire. Her hands darted like vipers, coiling in and out of Mae's guard before she could react. A high feint—Mae reached for it. Annie ducked and drove a heel into her shin.
Ten strikes.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
Each one chained with precision, timed with cruel efficiency—never overextending, never losing her rhythm.
Mae stumbled back, breath ragged, shoulders heaving. She couldn't find an opening.
Annie didn't even look winded.
Her breath was controlled. Stable. As if she'd done nothing at all.
"See?" Annie cooed. "It matters a lot~"
"Wow! Wow! Wow! Even after Mae entered that state she still can't land a hit on this Xain!" Quincy shouted over the roar of the coliseum, her voice high with disbelief. Most of the crowd cheered wildly, drunk on the spectacle of it all—but not everyone.
Those who knew fighting, who had trained, bled, lived through combat, felt something unnatural crawl beneath their skin. Annie's technique wasn't just sharp—it was unnerving. Her movements were too clean, too smooth, like watching a puppet dance without strings. The human body wasn't supposed to move like that. It was skill beyond mastery. It felt…wrong.
In the fighters' waiting room, Callum stared through the viewing window and jabbed a finger toward the arena. "And one of us has to fight that?!" he said, voice caught somewhere between awe and panic. He turned to Even. "Can I just call it quits now?"
"Shut up and watch…" Even muttered, arms crossed, eyes locked ahead. "Even if it does feel wrong…"
"He moves like Zeva," Calvinel murmured, "but instead of beautiful—it's wrong."
Zeva gave a soft, thoughtful hum of agreement.
In the arena below, Annie stood perfectly still, smile lingering as her breath evened. Then—
"Let's finish this, shall we?" she said lightly, almost playfully, as she drew in a deep breath and shifted into a grounded stance—her legs set wide and firm, one arm raised in a guard, the other chambered and low. It was a stance built for both power and speed, precise and brutally efficient.
Inside her mind, Ercale jolted. "No—there's no way. She's not gonna do that, right?"
Xain glanced toward him, eyes narrowing. "What? What is she doing?"
Ercale's eyes stayed glued to the screen. "Something barely anyone knows about. Let alone uses."
Back in the arena, Annie smirked to herself, ignoring the voices in her head. Across from her, Mae growled and pulled every last drop of mana into her limbs—enhancing herself to the limit. Then she vanished into a blur, launching at Annie with all the speed and fury she had left—
*100%,* Annie whispered in her thoughts.
She twisted her hips, snapped her shoulder forward, and drove her fist straight into Mae's chest at the exact moment the elf reached her—
—one perfect, horrifying strike.
There was no windup, no wasted motion. Just raw, concentrated power. The impact rang out like a gunshot. Mae's body snapped backward from the force, her eyes wide with shock as her Elven Rage shattered instantly. She crashed through a wooden beam, then through a wall—
—and didn't get back up.
The arena exploded into cheers.
"And with that powerful finishing punch," Quincy declared, voice riding the wave of noise, "the winner is—The Youngest Fighter! Xain!"