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The arena floor did not merely crack when Viktor Richter unleashed Iron Verdict. It collapsed beneath him.
Every fragment of momentum absorbed by Quarantine. The accelerated stone, Yuzuki's probing strikes, the restrained Red and the smaller attacks used to measure the field was driven downward at once. The reinforced tiles beneath Viktor's feet turned to powder before a violent shockwave tore outward in every direction.
Yuzuki saw it coming.
His Six Eyes followed the force spreading through the floor, tracing the rising stone and compressed air with perfect clarity. He understood the attack before the first crack reached him, but understanding it did not make his injured body fast enough to escape.
Infinity was still in its fifteen-second cooldown.
Yuzuki leapt, forcing aura through his legs despite the pain running through his damaged pathways. He gained enough height to avoid the lowest edge of the blast, but the shockwave rose faster than his body could follow. It struck his left side in mid-air and folded him around the impact.
The sound of breaking bone disappeared beneath the explosion.
Yuzuki was thrown across the arena, bounced once and skidded through broken stone until he stopped near the outer wall. Blood spilled from his mouth when he tried to breathe, and a sharp pain stabbed through his ribs hard enough to blur even the Six Eyes.
For several seconds, he remained on his hands and knees, coughing against the fractured floor. At least two ribs were cracked, and another had shifted badly enough that every breath scraped against the inside of his chest. His left side refused to expand properly, shortening each breath and making the flood of information entering his eyes harder to process.
'Seeing it wasn't enough.'
He had known exactly where the attack would travel. He had even known when it would reach him. None of that mattered when his legs could not move quickly enough and Infinity was unavailable.
Viktor emerged from the settling dust without celebrating. He stepped out of the crater, adjusted his footing and resumed his advance as though nothing had happened.
The Iron Tyrant did not need to rush.
Quarantine moved with him, turning every step into another section of the arena Yuzuki could no longer safely enter. With the retaining wall behind him and Viktor approaching from the front, the enormous ring began to feel like a narrowing corridor.
Yuzuki forced himself upright while holding his left side. His breathing remained shallow, and even a slight turn of his torso caused the broken ribs to grind together.
'He isn't chasing me. He's taking away the places I can stand.'
Another Red was no longer an option. The recoil would tear through his damaged chest, and attacking Quarantine directly would only give Viktor more force to store. Yuzuki needed an opening that did not depend on overpowering the field.
He focused on the aura surrounding Viktor's body.
The field was not fixed to the arena or anchored beneath Viktor's feet. It spread outward from the dense concentration of aura beneath his sternum, maintaining the same shape as he moved.
Wherever Viktor's chest went, the prison followed.
Then Viktor stepped around a raised slab of stone.
His foot changed direction first, followed by his hips and shoulders. The movement looked smooth from a distance, but the Six Eyes caught a brief disruption in the field. As Viktor rotated, the pressure stored inside his body had to shift with him. For a fraction of a second, the trailing edge of Quarantine contracted before restoring its normal radius.
The ability had not failed.
Viktor's body had simply needed time to turn it.
'The field bends whenever he changes direction.'
The opening was tiny. Tar too small for Yuzuki to exploit from several metres away, but it was real.
Inside the private viewing box, Kastro gripped the railing as Yuzuki struggled to remain standing.
"He cannot rotate his torso properly," Kastro said. "Even if he sees the next attack, his ribs will slow his response."
Bisky did not answer immediately. Her attention remained fixed on Yuzuki's right hand and the small movements of his fingers.
"He knows he cannot outrun Viktor," she said at last.
"Then what is he planning? He cannot break through that field."
Bisky's expression tightened as Yuzuki stepped away from the wall instead of retreating along it.
Viktor closed the distance steadily, showing no sign that he had noticed Yuzuki's discovery.
Yuzuki lowered his arms and loosened his shoulders, settling into a restrained Systema stance. He took short breaths that moved his chest as little as possible, then extended one finger toward the loose fabric around Viktor's right ankle.
A tiny point of Blue formed.
The pull was so weak that it would not have moved Viktor's leg directly. It caught only the cloth of his trousers and dragged it slightly sideways as he stepped.
Viktor's foot landed a fraction away from where he intended.
His body corrected automatically. His weight shifted, his hip turned and his sternum rotated several degrees to preserve his balance.
Quarantine contracted along the trailing edge.
Yuzuki stepped into the space it briefly abandoned.
Viktor's eyes narrowed as he threw a straight punch. Yuzuki slipped aside with a shallow movement that barely turned his damaged torso, then applied another microscopic pull to the strap around Viktor's opposite ankle.
The strap tightened unexpectedly. Viktor adjusted his foot, and the field contracted again.
Yuzuki still did not attack. The opening lasted for too little time, and his injured body could not cross the remaining distance before it closed. Instead, he used the contraction to reposition himself, staying near the edge of the field without presenting Viktor with a direct charge.
A third point of Blue rolled a piece of broken tile beneath Viktor's heel. The stone moved barely an inch, but it was enough to force another correction.
For the first time, Viktor's steady rhythm broke.
Yuzuki was not trying to overpower him. He was steering him through his clothing, footing and the damaged arena floor, forcing the heavier man to make small turns he had never intended.
Viktor's next strike missed Yuzuki's cheek by less than an inch. Avoiding it forced Yuzuki to twist farther than his ribs could tolerate, and pain tore across his left side. His vision darkened at the edges, but he kept watching the field.
Every pivot caused the same brief contraction.
"You are not attacking me," Viktor said, turning slowly to keep Yuzuki in front of him. "You are altering my steps."
Yuzuki wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're difficult to move directly. Your clothes and the floor are much more cooperative."
Viktor glanced down at the debris surrounding his feet, then back at Yuzuki. There was no anger in his expression, only immediate understanding.
"You discovered that the field follows my sternum."
"And that turning all that pressure takes effort."
Viktor stopped advancing.
Yuzuki did not mistake the pause for hesitation. The veteran had understood the problem and was already changing his approach.
He shortened his stance and planted his feet closer together, removing the long, heavy steps Yuzuki had been exploiting. A controlled pulse travelled through the ground as Viktor released part of the stored momentum beneath him, blowing away loose dust and fragments that could interfere with his footing.
Then Quarantine began to shrink.
The outer edge pulled inward until the field surrounded Viktor's torso in a much tighter sphere. The pressure inside it became denser, and the brief contractions caused by his movements nearly disappeared.
Yuzuki's eyes narrowed.
By reducing the radius, Viktor had done more than remove the openings around his steps. He had concentrated the stored force closer to his body, making any release at short range far more dangerous.
"He adapted quickly," Kastro said from the viewing box.
"He had to," Bisky replied. "Yuzuki was turning his own body against the ability. Viktor has reduced the strain by making the field smaller, but now the pressure inside it is much denser."
Kastro watched the distance between the fighters and understood the rest.
"Yuzuki has no safe way to enter."
Viktor stood less than four metres away, his smaller field compressed tightly around him.
"You found a weakness in the way my body carries Quarantine," he said. "That deserves respect. But you needed space and time to use it."
Yuzuki took another shallow breath.
The Iron Tyrant lowered his centre of gravity.
Until now, he had advanced with patience, trusting the field to take away Yuzuki's escape routes. That patience vanished as aura surged through his legs.
For the first time in the match, Viktor charged.
His reduced Quarantine swept forward around him like a compact battering ram. There were no wide steps to redirect and almost no loose fabric left for Yuzuki to manipulate. If the field caught him, it would steal his movement before Viktor's fist arrived. If he avoided it by turning too sharply, his broken ribs could lock his body in place.
Yuzuki did not step back.
His Six Eyes followed Viktor's charge, the compressed field and the pressure gathering behind his fist. His body hurt, his breathing was failing.
Even so, a faint smile appeared on his bloodied lips.
'So you finally decided to run.'
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