We were completely absorbed in our own worlds.
The duel, the noise, the weight of intent pressing against intent. Everything else had vanished. It was only when a familiar presence forced itself between us that reality snapped back into place.
Zmey.
The pressure evaporated instantly.
I exhaled and relaxed my stance, retracting my Loom. Laedingr dissolved into motes of light, disintegrating cleanly before being absorbed back into the black pearl of my ring.
Across from me, Finster did the same. He flicked his weapon into the air. It broke apart mid-arc and flowed back into the hairpin hidden in his hair.
Zmey crossed her arms and looked between us.
We were still staring at each other.
She sighed. "I noticed you two had some… tension. I did not expect it to escalate into mutual self-destruction."
"You also violated the rule about not using skills outside your Loom."
Then she tilted her head slightly on me. "And do you need help with that."
She pointed at my left arm.
It dangled uselessly at my side.
I glanced down at it, then back up at her. "No thanks."
Before she could comment, I reached over and grabbed my arm myself.
Getting used to dislocation was not a skill I ever thought I would need when I came to this world. Yet here I was, collecting it like an unwanted achievement. Given the nature of my abilities, this was probably going to be a recurring theme.
I aligned the joint and pulled.
"URK."
Pain surged through me in a sharp, concentrated wave, followed immediately by relief as everything slid back into place where it belonged.
Finster was still watching me. His expression had softened. The sharp focus from earlier was gone, replaced with something closer to guilt. Or concern. Or both.
I looked away and clicked my tongue quietly.
I should have controlled myself better. That habit of acting first and thinking later followed me even across worlds. Old habits die hard, and in my case, they seemed fully committed to homicide.
Zmey then ordered. "Both of you, take a seat. The next batch will use the arena."
We obeyed.
Zmey cleared her throat, drawing everyone's attention back to the arena. Her gaze swept across the gathered students before she spoke again.
"I will be retracting the rule prohibiting the use of skills," she announced.
"Most of you are still unfamiliar with properly channeling your looms. Letting students fight freely against others who had years of training would only turn the match into a one-sided display rather than a test of growth," she explained.
Zmey paused, then her eyes settled on Finster.
For a brief moment, he stiffened. Then he scratched the back of his head, a shy and slightly awkward gesture that earned a few quiet chuckles from nearby students. He looked almost embarrassed, as if he had been personally called out.
Zmey allowed the reaction to fade before raising her voice once more.
"Prepare yourselves," she said. "The first round has concluded. I will now announce the names for the second round."
I dropped down beside Tasora, who looked monumentally bored, chin resting on her palm as she stared at the arena. Students stepped forward one by one, stretching, adjusting Looms, psyching themselves up.
Tasora glanced at me sideways. "Should I say something?"
I raised an eyebrow. "About?"
"That was not really a fight," she said. "It looked more like… talking. With violence."
"That is one way to phrase it."
She nodded thoughtfully. "You do realize that if you express yourself like that, he might take it the wrong way."
"I am aware," I replied.
But the Finster I knew is different from that. I knew him more than he knew himself.
She tilted her head. "You know, you might have more friends if you explained things normally."
I looked at her. "And you would have more friends if you were less honest."
She blinked. "That is not my fault."
"It absolutely is."
She hummed, considering that, then shrugged. "touché."
Our conversation was interrupted by footsteps stopping in front of us.
I already knew who it was.
"Hello," a voice said carefully. "I am sorry. I lost control back there."
I scowled slightly, already bracing myself.
Finster stood there, hands relaxed at his sides, posture no longer aggressive. His gaze flicked briefly to my arm, then back to my face.
Of course.
Here we go.
Finster shifted his weight slightly, clearly unsure where to place himself now that the fight was over.
I did not look at him.
Tasora noticed.
She leaned forward just enough to block his line of sight to me and smiled up at him. "You move strangely," she said, curious. "You copy and dismantle anything you touch. I have not seen that before."
Finster blinked, then relaxed a little. "It is not intentional," he replied. "At least not fully.
It's a unique skill of mine. It responds to pressure. The more danger there is, the faster it refines my movements."
I closed my eyes. Great. They were bonding.
Tasora glanced at me. "You could say something useful here."
"I could," I replied, " but something more interesting is starting."
Before she could press further, a ripple of attention passed through the duel grounds. Conversations quieted, and almost all heads turned towards the second round within the arena.
Two literal royal figures stepped forward into the arena.
Solaris and Maku.
Her attention was already locked onto the arena.
Solaris stepped forward first.
The ground beneath her feet crystallized into layered sigils, frost spreading in precise geometric patterns. The air temperature dropped enough that my breath fogged faintly, even from the stands. She planted her staff once and the battlefield answered.
Maku did not react.
He stood there, sword loose at his side, posture relaxed to the point of insult. His presence felt thin, stretched. Like a shadow that did not fully belong to the body casting it.
Tasora leaned forward. "He is baiting her."
Solaris raised her staff, and the ice surged.
Spears erupted from the ground in a wide arc, not aimed to kill but to restrict his movements. Paths narrowed. Escape routes vanished under the transmuted thrum of frost.
Maku moved exactly when it became inconvenient.
He stepped sideways and vanished.
He became blurry and split.
Two Makus stood where there had been one, then three, four, then six, and each formed from condensed thrum.
Tasora inhaled sharply. "Dispersion, the natural ability of violet-cored weavers. It lets them dispurse their thrum at a much easier pace and control than any other colored core."
Finster smiled. "That's impressive. So if I am a violet cored will I be able to do that as well?"
"No," she replied. "Most violet-cored weavers use it to throw projections like blades, arrows, or spears. Since they are dispursed thrum, their lethality is not that strong and mostly used as projections and distractions. But Maku is maintaining full body double's control while fighting in real time."
"That is like drawing a circle and a square at the same time with opposite hands."
Tasora drew a circle in her right hand and a square in her left hand in the air with her finger.
"But in his case, Maku needs to control six hands, and all are trying to kill someone."
The doubles rushed Solaris from different angles.
She did not retreat.
Ice walls rose and folded inward, compressing space rather than blocking it. Frost wrapped around one double's leg, slowing it just enough for a spike to shatter its torso. Another lunged, and Solaris pivoted, staff, glowing as a wave of freezing force slammed it aside.
Maku's real body was still hiding.
Finster's eyes narrowed. "He is watching."
"Yes," Tasora said. "He wants her to show her limits first."
Another double feinted high. Solaris countered without looking, ice blooming mid-air to intercept the strike. Her control was overwhelming, layered, and deliberate. She fought like a mage who fought countless wars.
"Maku is relentless," Finster said.
Tasora's voice lowered. "The terrifying part is that she is matching him."
One of the doubles dissolved mid-sprint and reformed behind Solaris. The timing was perfect. The blade swung.
Solaris twisted, ice sheathing her shoulder just in time. The impact rang through the arena, steel meeting transmuted frost.
The real Maku finally moved.
He stepped forward once.
At the same moment, every remaining double attacked.
Solaris slammed her staff into the ground, and the battlefield detonated in ice. Pillars erupted upward, forcing the doubles apart, shattering two outright. The temperature plunged violently, frost crawling up Maku's blade even as he advanced.
Tasora exhaled slowly. "She is forcing his hand."
Finster nodded. "He wanted one clean strike."
"And she refuses to give it."
Maku flicked his wrist. One double remained. It rushed Solaris head-on.
She destroyed it instantly.
Maku appeared where the double had been, blade already moving.
Solaris crossed her staff, and sharp icicles layered near Maku's neck.
Maku's sword also stalled and stopped an inch from her chest.
Silence fell.
Then the barrier chimed.
Match concluded.