Under the shadowed canopy of the jungles to the north of Al-Lazar, the Thornfruit dangles like a jewel amid the twisted and thick vegetation. Its spiny red skin bristles with hair-like barbs, guarding the tender, translucent flesh within. Mature, when cracked open, the fruit reveals a pearl-like orb, sweet as honey with a whisper of citrus. Legends say that those who eat the Thornfruit are blessed with renewed vitality and dreams of forgotten lands. However, its appearance alone is enough to make the wary traveler pause, unsure if it offers sustenance or a slow death, for the unripe fruit can make for a rather deadly poison.

  - The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC.

  I had been played. I had been played, but I was no longer the callow youth that I had been. I had changed and I had grown.

  I gave Kanaia a winning smile, even as I threaded together a Sage’s Sight. “Typical, a woman would need to cheat to win at anything. To be willing to do anything to achieve a cheap, cheap victory. That is the problem with you lot, no pride at anything. I bet your father would be proud…”

  Instead of attacking, the woman looked even more incensed. It looked to me like anger was driving her to make a reply. Wasting that most precious of resource, time.

  “How dare you judge me, foreign cur…” she accused, her voice raspy with repressed rage.

  They were words most familiar and a seed of bitterness took root. Why did everyone have to be so racist on this barbaric planet? Even as I took in these ignorant words filled with blind hate, I felt a small pang of worry at seeing a high base level and an advanced Skill.

  Still, like all of the natives, her base attributes looked to be simply inferior to my own, and despite the level difference between us, I believe I still held a clear advantage.

  “Prove it then, prove that you do not need to cheat to win at this sacred and honorable event. I doubt as a mere woman you have a shred of honor in you,” I jibed with a jeer.

  The lightning faded from her, the energy withdrawn. Her expression turned haughty.

  “Good enough for you? Can we start now?” Her voice was thick with scorn, every movement laced with the easy contempt of someone convinced they had already won.

  I chuckled, though not aloud. “We started the moment our feet touched these stones,” I said. Foolish girl, the lightning might have proved troublesome to deal with only my fists and feet.

  With a breath, I summoned my Skills, the Improved Dash blending seamlessly into my Rush Strike. The world blurred around me as I lunged, my speed unnatural and inhuman. Stamina be damned. I could not allow her to unleash her electrical skills.

  My attack found only air as she pirouetted away, and before I could recover, she lashed out with an elbow aimed at my temple. Human reflexes failed me, but the Mimic within reacted, raising my arm in a quick block. The impact jarred me, but I remained standing.

  Fights are never kind enough to follow the rhythms of one blow after another, taken in turns. Her attack never stopped. Before I could even blink, she dipped low, her form a shadow against the stone floor as she spun into a sweeping kick. I anticipated the move, lowering my body and center of gravity to better brace myself to absorb the blow.

  For my trouble, I earned a kick to the face. Fast, too fast, and lightning quick. Momentarily stunned, I could only look on as she flowed into the attack after attack with the grace of a predator. Even my Mimic shield could not keep up. The second kick came as I staggered back, my attempt to parry only dulling the force of the blow.

  Needing time to recover, I pushed off with a Dash to create some space as I instructed the voices within to begin forming Greater Drain. I could feel the voices stir, whispering in the back of my mind as they started laying down the foundations for the spell.

  “Is this truly the art of eight limbs? I see nothing special here,” the female Pugilist sneered.

  I wiped the blood from my mouth, spitting it onto the stone tiles. It seemed to sizzle angrily against the hot granite. Two solid hits, but I had only taken about fifty points of damage. Still, not bad for a girl, I admitted.

  The crowd remained deathly silent—no cheers, no jeers. It felt more like a solemn execution than a fight for their enjoyment.

  I opened my mouth, ready to stall with a reply, but she was on me in an instant, her speed nearly as inhuman as my own. As I blocked and dodged, her strikes came faster, weaving through the air with a rhythm I almost recognized. This speed, this precision—I had seen this somewhere before.

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  As if in punishment for this stray thought, a thick braid of hair lashed across my face. Unorthodox, yes, and though it did not hurt much, it made me reflexively flinch—just enough for her next blow, a solid punch, to slam into my stomach with the force of a charging bull, knocking the wind out of me.

  I knew, objectively, that I was winded. My body spasmed, reacting to the force of the hit. But I felt detached, as if the pain belonged to someone else, dulled by Improved Pain Nullification.

  Kanaia’s eyes widened, just slightly, as I coughed and gasped for air—but remained on my feet.

  Where was my Greater Drain? Where...

  The force of the blow had been enough to break the spell’s weave, causing me to waste two Mana—a mirror to her own loss when I had tricked her into withdrawing her spell.

  I hated to admit it, but she was faster than me. Faster, but not tougher, stronger, or smarter. I had to slow her down, somehow. Entropic Aura? The magic hummed eagerly, but I shoved it aside. I needed something more... nuanced for the situation.

  A slow, slumbering melody echoed in my mind. A negative made manifest—Freezing Aura. I cast the spell swiftly, with the voices guiding me, leaving my defense almost entirely to my Mimic. Frost bloomed around me, the cold spreading fast, my Mana dipping by two more points. Again, I used Improved Dash, creating more space between us by burning the Stamina I still had in abundance.

  Then, I called on Greater Drain again.

  The moisture in the air had already begun to freeze on the stone tiles, turning the ground slick. She tried to perform one of her fancy moves, but her footing faltered, and she almost went down face-first. I, too, was affected by the ice, but with Freezing Aura in full effect, the pace and tempo of the fight slowed to something more manageable.

  She spouted some banal nonsense about me having no honor or cheating. It was nothing more than the weak howls of a dog that was about to lose. Women would say anything to avoid accountability.

  Grinning with satisfaction, I knew the tables had turned. Instead of a delicate dance, I would turn this into a slugfest. You did not need to rise to the level of your opponent, sometimes, you just had to drag them down to yours. I used Dash again to create just a little bit more of the time and space needed to unleash the spell.

  As my Mimic blocked her spinning backhand, I nearly slipped but held firm. And there it was, Greater Drain formed, hungry and ready. The thick tendrils of the spell leaped like hungry hounds toward Kanaia, and at this range, it simply could not miss.

  The vampiric link was formed between us, her life force joining mine as I felt the heady influx of energy flow into me. With each pulse of pleasure, my confidence grew. I did not need to sully my hand by physically striking her anymore; victory would come by simply defending, letting her exhaust herself against me.

  Humiliating for her and apt. Most apt.

  “Fight me!” she yelled, but I dodged easily, staying just out of her reach. Was she shivering?

  With Freezing Aura having already done its work of making the arena floor treacherously slippery, I thought to also use my Improved Entropic Aura. What would happen if I tried to cast it while a previous Aura spell was still in effect? There was only one way to find out.

  Kanaia, showing off her flexibility, planted her hands on the ice-covered floor and struck at my head with another powerful kick. My Mimic blocked it, but I felt the full force of it rock through my bones as it chipped away at the Health of my unnatural shield.

  Too late for her, though. Far too little, and far too late. Improved Entropic burst from me with a hungry glee. A pulse, a wave of roiling grey crested against the female Pugilist-cum-Electromancer, lighting a small spark of fear in her eyes.

  Instead of Freezing Aura fading, it fused with Entropic Aura, feeding off its energy. The temperature plummeted again, as bitter and unforgiving as the icy lands of Kidu’s home, now brought to life in the heart of this desert city. There was a certain poetry in it.

  Since time immemorial, has there ever been a phrase as sweet as "you have learned"?

  Her teeth began to chatter, the cold draining her speed and strength. I felt the chill, too, but with my ridiculously high Constitution, it touched me less.

  Observing that her Health had been drained to three-quarters, her Stamina less than half, and her Mana almost completely gone, I could not help but feel joy at my impending victory. All without landing a strike of my own.

  If this were a match on points, I would have surely lost. Good thing it was not.

  “You have lost… unlike the others, I will not take your life and allow you to yield. It is the chivalrous thing to do, after all,” I offered in my largesse.

  She threw her head back, laughing defiantly. “You think this is defeat? This fight isn’t just limited to these tiles.” She shook her head, exasperated. “You men fight to win. We women fight to survive—and to win, no matter the cost!”

  With that, she brought her hand in a swift cutting motion.

  “What was that supposed to signify? Dramatic effect? This is no theatre, girl,” I replied, confident and sure.

  “My little worm in Salahaem tells me that someone no longer has her Shadow to protect her from unseen blades. The freak, Aelayah, can barely lift a penknife, let alone defend herself. I wonder how safe she’ll be,” she said coyly.

  Despite myself, I glanced toward Aelayah, who was watching our bout from her box overlooking the arena. She looked at us with a cool, regal indifference. A surge of worry shot through me as I weighed my options. The woman Kanaia had me by the throat.

  “My men are coming for her… how do you foreigners say it? There’s more than one way to skin a pig,” she continued, launching herself at me again.

  Distracted, I could only defend, barely fending off her strikes. Her newfound confidence fueled her blows, each one sparking with lightning, scorching my skin and clothes.

  “Do you think you have time to dance with me? Your precious Holder princess’ life is in danger. Look at those men…” she commented, almost giggling.

  Even knowing she was most likely bluffing, I could not help but glance again in Aelayah’s direction. Figures with covered faces, clad in misty dark purple cloth, were moving toward Aelayah’s box with grim determination.

  I was swept off my feet, and even while my world was still spinning, an axe kick came down toward my face. I was barely able to roll away, stone chips flying from the impact of her blow, scraping across my skin.

  “I think you’d best go, don’t you?” she cooed, her voice dripping with false sweetness. There was no lie in her tone, no misdirection—just the cold, hard truth of my predicament.

  I howled, fury and frustration boiling within me. The unfairness of it all gnawed at my gut, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.