The ground was still humming from the boss's roar, snow and dirt sifting down from the canopy above. Dozens of yellow eyes ringed us in the shadows, every one locked on me and the three women at my side.
The big one stood motionless, that smug grin plastered across its face like it already knew how this would end. Arrogant dickhead.
"Guess we're surrounded," I muttered, cracking my knuckles.
Understatement of the year, Shyara's thought brushed mine, the flicker of adrenaline sharpening her tone.
Then the world exploded.
The first wave hit like a storm — fur, teeth, and fists hammering into our formation from every direction.
Nyla was gone in an instant, a violet blur carving across the snow, her claws hissing through flesh with wet, tearing sounds. Shadows burst from the ground like jagged spears, impaling anything that thought it was safe outside her reach. Every kill was punctuated by the meaty thud of bodies hitting snow. Even with the swarm, they couldn't touch her — not until they could touch me.
Yuki's blade flashed in clean, precise arcs, each slash followed by the hiss of freezing air. Her ice walls bloomed like frostbitten flowers, shattering with sharp, glassy cracks under heavy blows. But every block made her knees shudder, each strike that slipped through leaving a bruise or a bead of blood down her pale cheek.
Shyara was all motion and mana, her kicks landing with the crunch of breaking bone. She lit the treeline red with a Burning Finger to the chest of one — the smell of scorched fur and cooked meat hit my nose — and got swatted hard enough to leave a body-shaped crater in the snow. She came up grinning through a split lip, blood dripping onto her chin, and dove right back in.
I stayed at the center, fists snapping like pistons, each connection sending shockwaves up my arms. I didn't even see the big one slip through my guard — just felt its fist drive into my ribs like a wrecking ball.
Something popped. White pain flared through my side, my lungs seizing up as air tore out of me in a ragged gasp.
"Kai!" Nyla's voice cracked through the battlefield like a whip.
Her rhythm faltered. Her head snapped toward me — and the boss was on her in two strides. The backhand landed with a sickening crack, sending her skidding in a long, jagged trench of snow and churned dirt.
She stood, but she wasn't Nyla anymore.
Her golden eyes burned like molten metal, her aura bleeding heat into the cold air. She didn't stalk her prey now — she erased it. Shadows surged like a tidal wave, her claws ripping through the mob with no grace, no subtlety. Just raw, wet slaughter.
Yuki's style fractured too. Her perfect lines turned jagged, every strike landing with a bone-deep thud, her blade biting deep and pulling free with a hiss of freezing blood. She was bleeding from a cut along her cheek, and the ice forming in her hair wasn't magic — it was her sweat freezing mid-battle.
Shyara's grin was gone, replaced with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes. She was still hitting hard, but every time she landed, she took one back. You need to get up, Kai, she pushed into my head, her mental voice tight. We're not holding this forever.
I forced myself upright, ribs screaming, vision tilting for a heartbeat. My gaze locked on Nyla, tearing into three gorillas at once but glancing toward me. She'd drop her guard again if I didn't move.
Not happening.
I surged forward, catching a gorilla mid-charge and snapping its jaw with an uppercut. Bone cracked under my fist like a bat hitting wet clay.
"Miss me?" I said through the pain.
The bond flared — three bursts of relief, sharp as lightning — and for a moment, the tide slowed.
⸻
The snow was a churned mess of blood, fur, and shattered ice. The girls were still standing, but barely — Nyla's fur matted crimson, Yuki's braid undone and plastered to her cheek with sweat and blood, Shyara's lip split wider every time she grinned.
The ring of gorillas closed in, growls vibrating in my chest. The boss stood at the front, grinning like a smug bastard.
"You fight well," his voice rumbled in my head, deep and heavy. "But you are tiring. You will all fall. Unless…" He tilted his head. "The leaders settle this. One on one."
I spat blood into the snow. "Just me?"
"Yes. Kill me, they scatter. I kill you…" his grin spread wider, "…and your females are mine."
Ah. It's always about the girls.
Behind me, Shyara's aura flared hot enough to sting. "That's cute," she said aloud.
I didn't turn. "If I'm fighting, I'm bringing my blade."
Confusion flickered in his eyes.
I nodded toward Shyara. "She's my weapon. You want me, you fight both of us. If you don't like it…" I rolled my shoulders, "we kill every last one of you, starting with you."
The big one stared for a long, cold moment, then laughed — a low, shaking sound. He waved his arm, and the wall of bodies stepped back, clearing a circle in the snow.
"Fine. I will break you both."
"Cool. Let's dance."
⸻
The Duel
He was on us in a blink, faster than anything that size should be. His fist came for my head — I slipped it by inches, the wind from the swing stinging my ear — and Shyara's heel was already swinging toward his temple.
"Nice try, Donkey Kong!"
He caught her foot. With one hand.
Then he spun, using her like a damn club to smash me in the chest. The impact sent a dull whumpthrough my ribs, forcing the air out of my lungs as my back slammed into the snow.
"Noted," I grunted, rolling to my feet. "Don't get caught."
Shyara spat blood and grinned. This is gonna be fun.
It's gonna be something, I thought back, my own grin breaking through.
We came in together — me low, hands snapping toward his ribs, Shyara high with a hook kick — and got shoved back like rookies sparring with a pro.
"Pathetic," his voice rumbled.
"Eh, give us a sec," I said. "We're just warming up."
⸻
The next exchange was pure punishment. His arms blurred, blocking, swatting, countering every angle we tried. A backhand rattled my skull, a shoulder check slammed Shyara into the ground hard enough to crater the snow, a low kick made my leg hum with numbness.
He's reading us, Shyara sent.
Then let's stop being readable.
⸻
I feinted a hook, dropped low, and swept at his legs just enough to make him shift his weight. Shyara drove a Burning Finger into his side — the air popped and the smell of scorched fur filled my nose — and he grunted, finally.
I was already on the other side, hammering his ribs with a three-hit combo straight out of Hajime no Ippo. Shyara followed with a high roundhouse that snapped his head sideways with a wet crack.
We didn't need to talk. She was where I needed her before I knew I needed her, and I was moving before she finished her strikes.
The boss started missing blocks. His grin split. We wove in Dragon Ball sweeps, One Piece axe kicks, and a Naruto-style flying knee I'd been itching to try, followed by a low sweep so Shyara could plant both heels into his chest.
He staggered.
⸻
We didn't stop. Hooks, elbows, knees, kicks — impact, impact, impact — each blow jarring my bones but driving him further back. His guard dropped. His steps slowed.
My uppercut snapped his chin up so hard my knuckles went numb. Shyara's mana-charged heel smashed into the side of his head, the thud echoing across the clearing, and he dropped to his knees, breath ragged.
System Ping.
Subjugation Possible: Would you like to make [Lightningback Silverback] your Subordinate?
He looked up at me, eyes still burning but drained of strength.
"On your knees," I said.
He already was.
Good. I'm exhausted.