The arena still hummed with the last echoes of Jake's chaotic win when the mood began to turn.
Jake had been half-dragged, half-guided off the stone square, one arm slung over Swift's shoulders and Bumble's inert chassis trundled away on a repair skid. The crowd laughed and buzzed, the energy wild and high from the ridiculous spectacle they'd just witnessed.
But as soon as the scoreboard shifted, everything changed.
The lights above the stone square narrowed to a colder, harsher hue. The holographic banners rippled once, and then a new pairing took over the sky.
WOLF QUEEN
vs
MIRA
The shift in atmosphere was immediate. The laughter died. The buzzing turned into a low murmur like distant thunder. Even the ones who had been booing and laughing at Jake's panic drew quiet, as if some instinct told them: this one is different.
Jimmy's voice came in low, almost reverent despite himself. "Alright, folks… we are DONE laughing for a minute. The next match… this is the one we've all been waiting for."
Julian's voice followed, calm as ever. "Match Two: Wolf Queen versus Mira. This is a continuation of their prior engagement in the sealed duel chamber. Expect… significant violence."
"That's commentator code for, 'you might want to look away if you're squeamish,'" Jimmy added.
The crowd didn't look away.
A chime rang, resonant and deep.
"COMBATANTS. PREPARE TO ENTER."
At the far gate, Mira walked out first.
She didn't stalk or strut. She was quiet, controlled, each step placed exactly where it needed to be. Her body had been restored by the magic water—no torn muscles, no broken bones, no shredded skin. Yet something in the way she held herself suggested the memory of pain hadn't faded. It lived inside her posture, in the careful way she breathed.
The lights shone off the short, deadly blade in her hand. She'd chosen a single dagger—no backup weapons, no theatrics. Her dark hair fell around her face, strands shifting slightly when the arena's artificial breeze passed.
Spectators along the front rail leaned forward.
"That's her. The assassin who went toe-to-toe with the Queen."
"She survived the chamber…"
"Think she can do it again?"
Mira stepped onto the stone and, for a moment, simply stood.
Her gaze swept the arena once. Cataloguing.
The walls.
The blood stains from past fights.
The way the light reflected off the polished stone floor.
The faint vibrations beneath her boots—Wolf King's low rumble somewhere off to the side, Jake's frantic breathing near the fighters' platform, the distant machinery below.
Then her eyes settled on the opposite gate.
It opened with a growl of stone and hydraulics.
The Wolf Queen entered like she owned the arena.
Broad shoulders, corded with muscle beneath her scarred fur. Claws extended, each digit ending in a hooked killing tool. Her mane was wild, the faint sheen of fresh healing still visible under the lights—areas where the Magic Water had renewed torn flesh and bone, covering over the damage Mira had done to her deep inside the chamber. Her eyes glowed like twin embers fixed on one target and one target only.
Alpha predator. There was no other way to describe her.
The crowd's murmur rose into a low roar.
"QUEEN! QUEEN! QUEEN!"
"MIRA! MIRA! MIRA!"
Her lips parted, revealing sharp, gleaming fangs. She rolled her shoulders slowly, her joints popping audibly from this distance. The Magic Water had done its work, but not completely. Healing that rapid left its own kind of fatigue. She wore it well, like armor.
She stepped onto the square, the stone almost seeming to hesitate under the weight of her presence.
Mira inclined her head slightly when the Queen drew close enough—an assassin's bow, short and sharp. Respect, but not submission.
Wolf Queen's grin widened. "Round two," she growled, voice carrying effortlessly across the arena. "This time you don't run."
Mira's reply was calm, edged. "I never ran."
A ripple went through the watchers.
Danny stood near Swift, arms folded, eyes focused—not just on the spectacle, but on the cadence of the fight he knew was coming. Swift leaned on the rail with his good arm, still a little sore despite the healing, watching with a tight jaw. Jake had stoppered his own mouth by biting his thumb, eyes wide, no jokes left in him.
On a higher ledge, Wolf King crouched, elbows on his knees, chin resting on one fist. His expression was sharp and strangely still.
The betting holograms flared to life.
Odds flashed above the fighters:
WOLF QUEEN: 2:1
MIRA: 5:1
The numbers only poured fuel on the fire in the stands.
"Mira cut her up before!"
"The Queen nearly killed her regardless!"
"This is going to be ugly."
"This is going to be beautiful."
Jimmy exhaled into the mic. "Ladies and gentlemen… this one might redefine the word 'brutal.' Place your bets if you haven't yet. They're about to close."
Julian added, "Medical staff are advised to stand by. This fight will not end cleanly."
The arena settled.
Chime.
"BEGIN."
The silence shattered instantly.
Wolf Queen lunged with murderous ferocity, her body moving faster than seemed reasonable for her size. She was a streak of fur and claw and scarlet eyes. The stone cracked under the shoulders of her push-off.
Mira turned sideways.
Not back. Not away.
Just enough.
The Queen's first swipe cut the air where her torso had been, claws slicing the trailing edge of Mira's coat. Mira pivoted, dagger flicking out. Steel kissed fur along the Queen's ribs, drawing the first blood—a shallow, perfect line.
Wolf Queen snarled in delighted anger.
"GOOD."
She pivoted on a dime and came again, claws smashing toward Mira in a flurry. The force behind each blow created aftershocks that traveled through the stone.
Mira's arm moved with terrifying economy. Her dagger met claw over and over, redirecting, deflecting, catching sliding hits instead of full force. Sparks flew every time metal met keratin. Her feet did almost as much work as her blade: pivoting, adjusting, always keeping her off the direct line of those killing strikes.
The sound of their clash echoed like a drum solo—clang, crack, scrape, snarl.
Up in the stands, spectators leaned so far forward it was a miracle they didn't fall.
Wolf Queen swiped low.
Mira jumped, but not quite high enough—the tips of the Queen's claws raked her shin.
She landed and felt the sting, warm blood quickly soaking into the fabric around her leg.
Mira responded by stepping into the Queen's next punch, twisting her body to minimize impact while slashing at the Queen's bicep, slicing the muscle at a deliberate angle.
Wolf Queen roared. It wasn't just pain; it was exhilaration.
On the viewing ledge, Wolf King's eyes gleamed with interest. "Better," he muttered. "Much better."
They separated for the barest heartbeat.
Breath ragged. Blood already on the stone.
Then they collided again.
Mira darted forward, seeming to vanish and reappear in front of the Queen's flank. Her dagger snapped out, aiming for a nerve cluster along the Queen's side, somewhere between armor-thick hide and bones. The Queen twisted with frightening reflex, taking a glancing cut instead of a crippling one, and raked Mira's shoulder with a counter-blow.
The impact sent Mira stumbling back, teeth gritted as pain flared down her arm.
Jimmy practically choked. "OH! SHE JUST TOOK A MEATY ONE ACROSS THE SHOULDER—BUT SHE'S STILL UP—SHE'S STILL UP!"
Julian observed, "Mira is deliberately focusing her strikes on previously damaged regions. The Queen's injuries were healed, but the internal tissue remains stressed."
Mira could feel it in the way the Queen moved.
The Magic Water had closed wounds. Re-knit bone. Smoothed over the visible damage.
But healing wasn't the same as rest.
Those muscles, those tendons, those bones—forced to mend instantly—were still tired underneath the facade of perfection. Every time Wolf Queen shifted her weight on that particular side, there was the slightest hitch. Every time she put full force behind her injured arm, Mira felt resistance.
She targeted it.
Cut along old paths.
She slashed across the same bicep she'd carved in the chamber, and though the surface fur was pristine, the underlying muscle twitched with remembered pain.
Wolf Queen's grin never faded.
She adapted.
Her swings grew tighter, less wild. She stopped overcommitting, stopped chasing kills that would leave her overextended. Instead, she started fighting like a tactician, letting Mira think she was dictating the flow before snapping back with punishing strikes.
Mira realized it too late.
Wolf Queen drove a knee into her stomach, hard enough to force the air out of her lungs.
Mira staggered, doubling over for a second.
That second almost cost her everything.
The Queen's claws came in a cross-swipe aimed at her neck.
She snapped her dagger up just in time, catching the blow with the flat of the blade. The force behind it rattled her bones. Her wrist screamed. For a fraction of a breath she was pinned under raw strength.
The stone under her boots scraped as she slid backward, the Queen's weight bearing down.
Mira pivoted, letting the pressure carry to the side, and rolled under the Queen's arm, slashing a shallow line across the Queen's abdomen as she passed.
Wolf Queen's howl shook the square.
Blood pattered onto the stone in fat drops.
On the ledge, Jake flinched. "I thought she was dead for a second…"
Swift didn't answer. He couldn't. His attention was locked on the fight, silver eyes following every motion as if he could feel the impact himself. Danny's jaw was tight, but there was a glint in his gaze—admiration, yes, but also calculation.
Both women were weapon and storm.
The middle of the fight blurred into a brutal dance.
Mira stopped trying to control the Queen's momentum and began flowing with it instead—stepping where the Queen's force wanted her to go, using that energy to slip around and counter-strike. Sidestep a claw, cut a thigh. Parry a punch, slice a forearm. Roll beneath a pounce, stab into a calf.
In return, the Wolf Queen made every touch count.
She slammed Mira into the wall once, the assassin's back hitting stone hard enough to leave a crack. She drove her shoulder into Mira's chest, knocking the air out of her. She raked Mira's cheek, leaving four parallel lines that immediately ran red. She planted a heavy foot on Mira's boot, pinning it momentarily in place so she could hammer her with a body shot to the ribs.
Mira's vision swam. Pain stabbed through her side with every breath. The dagger in her hand felt heavier by the second.
Across from her, the Queen panted, blood matting her fur in several places. But her eyes… her eyes were bright. Alive.
They broke apart again, circling, both wounded, both grinning.
Wolf Queen's voice was hoarse, but amused. "You're clever," she growled. "I like clever prey."
Mira wiped the blood from her cheek with the back of her hand, letting it smear like war paint.
"I don't plan on being prey," she said quietly.
The crowd roared approval at that, a wave of sound crashing over them.
Wolf King's grin widened. "That's the spirit."
The chime sounded—soft, almost lost under the noise.
"FINAL PHASE."
The words didn't need explanation.
Both fighters knew what it meant.
No more probing. No more testing.
Finish it.
Mira shifted into a lower stance, dagger reversed in her grip, blade along her forearm, ready to cut upward or downward with equal speed.
Wolf Queen crouched as well, sinking lower than before, muscles bunching, claws flexing against stone. Her tail swayed slowly, like that of a predator seconds before the pounce.
They circled each other.
The world seemed to narrow to just their breathing, the scrape of claws on stone, the subtle taps of boot on floor. All the sound of the crowd blurred into a distant storm.
A bead of blood dripped from Mira's rib wound, pattered onto the floor between them.
The sound of it hitting stone was louder than a hammer.
Wolf Queen moved first.
She exploded forward, not with a single straight lunge, but with a series of rapid, feinting steps, testing Mira's reactions, forcing her body to commit one way or another.
Mira didn't bite on the first motion.
She waited.
Queen's shoulder dipped. That was real.
Mira moved.
She stepped just out of line, twisting, dagger flashing in a silver arc toward the Queen's exposed ribs.
It would have cut deep. It would have hurt like nothing else had hurt the Queen this match.
But the Wolf Queen twisted mid-leap, an impossible contortion for someone of her size, guided not by thought but by instinct honed over countless battles.
Claws closed around Mira's wrist.
The dagger stopped an inch from flesh.
Mira's eyes widened.
Wolf Queen's grin flashed, feral.
For a fraction of a second, they hung there—frozen in the perfect geometry of a kill-denied.
Then the Queen slammed her full mass into Mira.
The assassin hit the stone hard enough to crack it. Pain exploded through her shoulder and back. Her dagger clattered from her grip and skidded away. She reached for it instinctively.
The Queen's other hand came down like a hammer, claws pinning Mira's forearm to the ground.
Mira jerked, straining to twist free.
Claws pressed just enough to draw beads of blood.
The Queen leaned down, her fangs inches from Mira's throat, her weight unyielding. The world shrank to the hot intensity of that gaze, the smell of iron and earth and fur.
Up above, the crowd waited for a killing blow.
The chime sounded instead.
"WINNER: WOLF QUEEN."
A roar detonated through the arena, shaking dust from the rafters.
The Queen didn't move at first.
She held Mira pinned a heartbeat longer, breathing hard, then slowly eased back, releasing her arm. She rose to her full height, tossing her head back with a slow, satisfied exhale. Her fur was matted and streaked with blood. Some of it was hers. Some of it wasn't.
Mira lay on the stone, chest rising and falling in sharp, controlled breaths. Her body screamed with pain, but she forced herself to roll to her side, pushing up until she was sitting. Her dagger lay a few feet away. She ignored it. The fight was over.
The Queen turned to leave, paws leaving red prints where the blood had pooled.
She took a few steps, then stopped and looked back.
Mira met her gaze, eyes still sharp, still aware, still unbroken.
For a brief moment, the air between them shifted.
"You should have cut deeper," Wolf Queen said quietly, voice low enough that only Mira—and perhaps those with enhanced senses—could hear. "Next time."
Mira's lips barely moved. "Next time," she agreed.
It was not a threat. Not quite praise.
Something in between.
Wolf Queen snorted, almost amused, then stepped off the square, cheers swallowing her as she joined the sidelines near Wolf King.
He regarded her injuries, then nodded once.
"Well done."
She bared her teeth in a grin. "She keeps me sharp."
Mira, still on the floor, exhaled slowly.
Med-bots rolled out toward her, but she brushed them away with a small gesture and pushed herself up to stand under her own power. Every muscle protested, but she refused to show weakness on that stone.
From the fighters' viewing area, Danny watched her closely. Swift let out a long sigh. Jake finally remembered how to breathe.
"She almost had her," Swift said quietly.
Danny nodded. "Yeah. But 'almost' doesn't matter here."
"Fighters remaining," the system intoned, neutral and cold. "Fourteen."
The crowd erupted again, already hungry for the next bout.
On the stone square, Mira walked off the field without a limp, without a backward glance.
The Wolf Queen's blood hadn't fully dried on her hands.
And somewhere in the depths of the arena, the core hummed between pulses, waiting for the next clash to come.
Shadeclaw looks at Mira with a sudden thought….