Her Ikona pulsed behind her—bright, but uneven. The light skipped once. Then again. The glow that had once surged with perfect rhythm now twitched off-beat, syncing with her ragged breathing.
Beneath them, the arena veins brightened.
A pulse traveled through the floor, strong enough that the sand kicked up around Elias's boots. The ground under him changed texture—slightly firmer, subtly wrong. It took him half a second to realize the arena had shifted weight again.
Not pressure this time. Not challenge. Intent. Like the system knew they were close to something final and wanted to drag it out.
Across from him, Kikaru's plasma spear began to reform. But the shape wavered.
It wasn't clean anymore. The edges jittered—strands of energy overextending past the shaft, then curling back like exposed wire. Her control was slipping, but she kept trying to force it into shape. Her arm trembled from the effort.
He adjusted his grip on the rod and exhaled once through his nose.
