Just as Jeren announced the start of the match.
The shadows coalesced differently this time.
Not the gradual emergence Akhil had seen in the previous rounds, where opponents formed from darkness like sculptures being carved into existence. This was immediate and absolute—one moment the platform held only him, the next moment the darkness simply parted and Najim was standing there, as if he'd always been present and the world had only just decided to acknowledge him.
Akhil's grip tightened on the Blood Fang.
He'd faced skilled opponents before. Fought monsters and men and things that defied categorization. But the figure standing across from him radiated something different—not killing intent exactly, but killing certainty. The assured patience of something that had ended lives so many times the act had become routine.
