The ward array hummed to life.
Blue light crawled across the arena floor, sealing the combat zone in a dome of protective energy. Lethal damage would trigger an automatic extraction—dumping the unfortunate soul into the medical wing with whatever was left of their body intact.
Non-lethal damage was fair game.
Atlas cracked his neck.
"Foundation Establishment Rank 4," Atlas said. "I almost feel bad about this."
"Don't," Kael replied. "It'll ruin the surprise."
Atlas's expression hardened.
He moved.
Earth manipulation wasn't subtle—Atlas's style was brute force wrapped in elemental power. The ground beneath Kael's feet erupted upward, a pillar of compressed stone and sand shooting toward his chest with enough force to cave in a car.
Kael stepped left by three inches. The pillar passed his shoulder by a hair's breadth, stone fragments grazing his cheek.
