The arena still hadn't stopped trembling from the Wolf King.
The cracks he'd punched into the stone were patched over by frantic builder-bots, tongues of fresh material melting and sealing into place, but everyone who'd seen it knew it was cosmetic. The floor remembered. The walls remembered. The air remembered.
Even the crowd, drunk on violence and adrenaline, sounded a shade unsteady. The roar had a ragged edge now, like they'd screamed beyond their limit and still wouldn't stop.
Jimmy coughed twice into his mic, voice borderline shredded. "Hhh–HOW'S EVERYBODY DOING? STILL GOT VOCAL CORDS? TOO BAD, YOU'RE GONNA NEED 'EM!"
Julian calmly adjusted three sliders, ignoring the chaos. "The arena's integrity is down to forty-one percent. I suggest we forbid any further—"
"Our next match," the system intoned over him, "is between Swift of the Silver Dragon Dojo and Kharn the War-Rusher."
The announcement rolled through the stands like a spark through dry tinder.
"DRAGON BOY!"
"THE AXE MANIAC!"
"SWIFT'S GONNA GET SPLIT!"
"KHARN'S GOING TO NEED A NEW SPINE!"
On one of the viewing platforms, Jake slumped against the rail. "Does nobody in this tournament believe in gentle sparring?"
"Not at this level," Danny said quietly, eyes on the sanded stone. Fresh lines from builder-bot seams cut across the floor, barely hiding the craters from previous matches. "This is where everyone stops pretending."
Shadeclaw watched the center of the arena with a predator's focus, tail flicking in slow, eager arcs. "The barbarian's scent," he said, mostly to himself, "is stupid. Loud. But his killing intent is real."
Jade half-dozed in his slime cradle, bandaged and pale. "Wake me if someone gets folded in half," he muttered. "Or if there's a waffle."
Swift stood a little apart from them, hands loose at his sides, shoulders tight. His silver eyes were fixed on the gate across from him, the gate Kharn would walk through.
His heart was beating too loud.
Not because of Kharn.
Because, in the edges of his vision, something flickered.
Green fire. Hollow sockets. A familiar, horrible silhouette.
Bones.
Swift blinked hard.
The image stayed for a moment—the green-flamed skeleton leaning lazily against the far wall of his memory, empty grin mocking, eyes like screaming pits.
"I killed you already," the ghost of Bones said, voice syrupy and cruel. "And then I killed you again. You really want to die a third time, little lizard?"
Swift inhaled.
The air tasted like hot stone and metal dust and the faint sweetness of waffle syrup drifting up from the commentator's booth.
He exhaled.
The vision frayed at the edges, then burned away.
Swift opened his eyes fully.
The gate across the arena boomed open.
Kharn the War-Rusher did not walk out.
He blasted out like an avalanche given legs.
He was huge. Not Wolf King huge, not Giga-Ronin enormous, but wrong enough that the stone didn't enjoy holding him. Veins mapped his boulder-thick arms in bulging rivers. Scars crisscrossed his chest like rough maps of every bad decision he'd ever survived. He had an axe in each hand, both of them absurdly oversized, chunks of some unknown metal hammered into brutal shapes, the blades not elegant but heavy, hungry.
He threw his head back and howled, a raw sound that had no technique, no training—just the joy of violence.
"DRAGOOOON!" he bellowed. "YOU READY TO BE A RUG?!"
The crowd answered for him.
"KHARN! KHARN! KHARN!"
Jimmy slapped the desk. "OH BOY, HERE COMES THE WALKING NATURAL DISASTER, FOLKS! IF THE STONE SURVIVES THIS ONE, I WILL PERSONALLY APOLOGIZE TO IT!"
Julian quietly saved an emergency reinforcement macro.
The opposite gate shuddered.
Swift stepped out.
He wasn't big.
He wasn't wrapped in glowing flames or dragon scales at that moment.
He was just… Swift.
Lean, compact, dressed in the dojo's modified combat gi, long hair tied back, silver eyes sharp and tired all at once. The only hint of what he was came from the faint shimmer of light that clung to his arms when he moved, as if the air itself wanted to trail after him.
He didn't look at the crowd.
He didn't look at Jake, who was flapping both hands in a frantic attempt at a thumbs-up.
He kept his gaze on Kharn.
His feet met the stone.
This time, he didn't flinch.
Kharn grinned, lips pulling back from thick, chipped teeth. "You look small," he called. "I like small. Small things break loud."
Swift stopped in his corner, rolled his shoulders once, and bowed—not deep, just enough to acknowledge the fight.
"I'm not here to break loud," he said.
Kharn snorted, stomping forward until the floor cracked under one heel. "Then you're in the wrong arena."
Swift's pulse spiked again.
Bones' laughter tried to curl up from his memory like smoke.
He swallowed.
Danny's voice echoed instead, from another time: You didn't die. He made you think you did. That's different.
Swift's jaw tightened. "Not this time," he murmured.
The chime rang.
Kharn moved like a landslide.
He didn't bother with feints or testing strikes. Both axes came down in a two-handed swing aimed square at Swift's torso, enough force behind it to split a boulder. The air in front of the swing visibly warped, the pressure of it preceding the steel by a heartbeat.
Swift wasn't there.
His body blurred sideways, silver chi flickering along his legs as he pivoted, the axe slamming into the floor where he'd been an instant earlier. Stone exploded in a jagged crater, shards rocketing up high enough that the barrier had to flare to catch them.
The impact alone knocked Swift off balance for half a beat.
Kharn yanked the axe free and swept the other sideways, laughing. "RUN, LITTLE DRAGON!"
Swift ducked under it, feeling the wind shear comb through his hair like a brutal hand. He planted his palm against Kharn's side as he passed, silver light flashing—
And struck.
It was not a big hit.
It didn't need to be.
Swift's chi compressed in the instant before contact, a spike of force driving into a very particular point below Kharn's ribs. The barbarian grunted, stumbling a quarter step sideways as his organs sloshed in protest.
Then he snarled and pivoted, so fast for his size the air whistled.
"GOOD!" Kharn roared. "THIS WILL BE FUN!"
His backhand caught Swift in the chest.
It wasn't a full swing, wasn't properly lined up—but it was still a mountain hitting a smaller mountain.
Swift flew.
He smashed into the arena wall shoulder-first, stone cracking in a thick spiderweb around him. The crowd flinched as one as the dust puffed outward.
Jake yelped. "SWIFT!"
Swift's entire body rang like a bell.
Bones' face tried to reassemble out of the dust in front of him.
He forced a breath in through his teeth, coughed once, then shoved himself out of the crater, rolling to the side just as Kharn's axe hammered into the exact spot he'd been.
The wall cratered inward another foot. A chunk of stone the size of a chair flew across the arena and disintegrated against the barrier.
Swift hit the floor, rolled, came up on one knee.
Kharn hauled his axe free and stalked toward him, grinning so wide it looked like it hurt.
"YOU DON'T DIE EASY!" Kharn declared happily. "I HATE EASY!"
Swift's ribs screamed. His shoulder throbbed.
He exhaled slowly, pulling silver chi into his core, letting it flow down his arms.
He remembered Bones' claws punching through him in that putrid dream.
He remembered the feeling of helplessness.
He remembered Danny's warm, unshakable presence ripping the illusion apart.
He pushed himself to his feet.
"I'm not… running," he said, more to himself than to Kharn.
Kharn spread both arms wide, axes dangling. "THEN HIT ME RIGHT!"
Swift obliged.
He stepped in so fast that only a streak of silver showed where he'd been. His palm struck Kharn's wrist, snapping it upward. The axe's path jerked away from Swift's skull and carved a trench in the floor instead.
He followed with a heel kick to Kharn's knee—silver chi blooming at the point of impact. The barbarian's leg buckled an inch, bone protesting, and for a brief moment Swift had leverage.
He took it.
His fist slammed into Kharn's sternum, silver light bursting between his knuckles and skin, the chi driving force inward like a battering ram. Kharn's breath whooshed out in a rough grunt.
It sounded like someone punching a bag of gravel.
Kharn staggered back two steps, then three, hand going to his chest.
He blinked, then smiled wider.
"BETTER," he said. "AGAIN!"
He charged before Swift could fully reset.
The next minute was a blur of speed and impact.
Axes whistled through the air, missing by inches, carving trenches in stone whenever they hit. Swift darted and rolled and pivoted, every dodge costing him microseconds of breath and focus, the shockwaves from Kharn's blows battering him even when they didn't land.
He scored hits of his own.
A palm strike to Kharn's elbow that made the joint crack ominously.
A silver-charged punch to the gut that forced bile and spittle from the barbarian's mouth.
A sliding kick to the ankle that nearly toppled him.
But "nearly" wasn't enough.
Kharn adapted in his own brutal, simple way.
He stopped chasing Swift's full body.
He aimed where Swift had to be.
Swift rolled out of the way of one axe—
And the haft caught him in the side.
It was like being hit by a speeding log. Pain exploded along his ribs. The world spun. He hit the ground, slid, bounced, and rolled to a stop with the taste of copper thick in his mouth.
He coughed.
Bright red splattered the stone.
Bones' voice purred in his head, silk over razors. "See? Same result. Different day."
Swift dug his clawed fingers into the stone. His nails scored shallow grooves.
"Not dying," he rasped.
Kharn's shadow fell over him.
He reached down, grabbed Swift by the front of his gi, and hauled him up into the air one-handed. Swift dangled, feet kicking.
Up this close, Kharn's eyes were wild and bright, but not empty. There was a kind of savage honor in them. He wanted Swift to give him a fight worth remembering. Wanted a story to roar in his next life.
"You hit good," Kharn said, spittle flying. "But not hard enough."
He lifted Swift higher, muscles bulging.
"EVERYONE WATCH CLOSE!" he bellowed to the stands. "THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU BRING A LIZARD TO A WARRIOR'S PIT!"
He reared back to slam Swift into the ground hard enough to crater the arena.
Swift's vision narrowed to a tunnel.
The arena faded.
For a heartbeat, he was back in that other space—bones underfoot, a sky of green fire, Bones' hand punching through his chest while his own scream never escaped his throat.
"Die," the memory whispered.
Swift's hands tightened around Kharn's wrist.
His fear didn't go away.
It sharpened.
"I'm… done…" he said through gritted teeth, silver light beginning to seep from his skin. His eyes glowed brighter, pupils narrowing to slits. "Running from shadows."
He twisted.
He didn't know if it was desperation or instinct or training finally sinking all the way into his bones, but his body moved exactly how it needed to.
He rolled his weight, kicking off Kharn's chest, using the barbarian's own grip as a pivot. His back arched in a tight arc, and instead of crashing into the ground, he swung up and over, planting both feet on Kharn's shoulders.
Kharn's eyes widened. "HUH?"
Swift's claws dug into the man's flesh.
Silver chi detonated.
Kharn's legs buckled. He dropped to one knee with a grunt, hand flying up toward Swift's ankle.
Swift jumped, flipping away, landing lightly a few paces back, breath ragged but eyes clear.
Silver shimmered across his arms like scales catching light.
He spread his fingers.
Wings of translucent energy—not fully manifest, but hinted—ghosted behind him, a reminder of what he truly was.
Danny watched from the platform, arms still folded, and nodded to himself. "He's stabilizing," he murmured.
Jake bounced on his heels. "Come on, Swift. Punch him into orbit."
Down on the stone, Kharn shook his head hard, then laughed.
"YES!" he roared. "NOW WE'RE FIGHTING!"
He lunged, axes coming up.
Swift stepped into him.
Fear was still there.
But something else was louder.
They collided in a storm of blows.
Swift's hands and feet became lines of silver, leaving afterimages as he struck. Each contact was a sharp, focused blast of chi, not wide arcs—targeting joint, nerve, tendon.
He shattered bone in Kharn's left wrist with a chopping strike. The axe tumbled free, crashing to the floor and sinking half its blade into the stone.
He drove a rising knee into Kharn's jaw, silver flare snapping the barbarian's head back with a spray of blood and a tooth.
Kharn laughed even as he spat red.
"GOOD—AGAIN!"
He grabbed Swift's arm with his remaining hand and yanked him in, headbutting him so hard Swift saw white.
Swift's legs almost gave out.
He forced them to hold.
Kharn kicked him in the chest. A rib cracked. Swift flew backward again, skidding through dust and rubble.
"JUST DIE PROPERLY!" Kharn thundered.
Swift rolled to a stop on his back this time, staring up at the arena lights, chest screaming, skull ringing.
"You died already," Bones' ghost whispered softly, sliding out from behind the light in his mind. "Let someone else bleed in your place."
Swift blinked.
He pictured Danny, casually talking to an overlord of wolves like it was a minor inconvenience.
He pictured Jake standing up to horrors he had no business facing and still doing it anyway.
He pictured the dojo. The long hours. The pain. The quiet pride in his master's eyes when Swift had first touched dragon chi and not exploded.
He pictured Bones.
He bared his teeth.
"Not today," he snarled.
Silver light exploded up from his core.
It raced along his limbs, poured into his hands, traced the lines of his ribs and shoulders and jaw. His eyes blazed like molten metal. The half-ghost of wings behind him snapped into sharper focus—still half-energy, half-light, but more real than before.
Swift pushed himself to his feet.
The crowd felt the shift.
"OOOH HE'S GLOWING—HE'S GLOWING!" Jimmy yelled. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE GOT OURSELVES A REAL DRAGON MOMENT!"
Julian monitored his screens. "His energy levels are spiking, but in a stable waveform. This is a controlled awakening."
Kharn squinted through the glare.
"YOU FINALLY WOKE UP, LITTLE DRAGON," he roared happily. "NOW LET'S SEE IT!"
Swift took one breath.
He stepped.
The arena blurred.
One moment he was yards away; the next he was in Kharn's face, palm already rising. His hand slammed into Kharn's bare chest, silver chi flaring not outward, but inward, punching deep.
The shock rippled through flesh and bone.
Kharn made a sound like a choked bark.
Swift didn't stop.
He spun, his heel catching Kharn's side, another burst of silver impact jolting through bone.
Kharn reeled, swinging his remaining axe wide in a desperate arc.
Swift ducked under it, wings of light trailing as he moved, and hammered both fists into Kharn's ribs, one-two, the second hit cracking at least one rib for real this time.
Kharn's laugh turned into a cough.
Blood sprayed onto the stone.
He staggered, dropped to one knee, then forced himself up again with a roar, swinging the axe in a two-handed grip this time, muscles standing out in corded bands.
Swift launched himself upward, wings flaring just enough to lift him above the swing.
The axe passed under his feet and buried itself in the arena floor up to the haft.
Swift came down.
He drove both feet into Kharn's shoulders, riding the barbarian's mass downward. Kharn crashed to one knee.
Swift backflipped away, landing in front of Kharn, silver light swirling around his fists.
They stared at each other for a breath.
Kharn was a bloody ruin, face swelling, chest bruised purple-blue, breath ragged. One arm hung partially useless at his side.
Swift was bleeding from the mouth, one eye half-swollen, ribs cracked, shoulder protesting every motion.
Kharn grinned, teeth stained red.
"YOU HIT LIKE A REAL ONE NOW," he growled. "GOOD."
He forced himself up.
One last charge.
He didn't bother with technique. Just raw, charging fury, every muscle throwing itself into motion.
Swift stepped forward to meet him.
He let everything gather into his hands.
Chi. Fear. Rage. Hope. The memory of dying and not dying.
Silver nova bloomed in his palms.
He roared.
"Silver—!"
His hands met Kharn's chest.
"—COMET!"
The world went white.
The impact was less an explosion and more an annihilation of space between them. Silver chi surged out in a tight wave, compressing and then detonating. Stone cracked in a spiderweb ring around them, fragments flying outward in a halo. The sound slammed into the barrier, making it flare bright.
When the light faded, Swift was on one knee, lungs burning, hands smoking, chest heaving.
Kharn stood in front of him.
For a second.
He blinked once.
Then the barbarian's legs gave out.
He hit the ground like a felled mountain, dirt and dust puffing up around him in a rough halo.
He did not get up.
He did not move.
He lay there on his back, chest rising shallowly, eyes half-lidded, a wild grin still frozen on his face.
"GOOD…" he rasped. "YOU… BROKE ME… RIGHT…"
His head lolled, eyes closing.
The chime echoed, almost subdued after everything they'd seen.
"Winner: Swift."
The crowd erupted.
"SWIFT! SWIFT! SWIFT!"
"DID YOU SEE THAT?!"
"HE DROPPED KHARN!"
Jake punched the air so hard he almost fell over. "THAT'S MY GUY!"
Jade, half-conscious, muttered, "Did someone… get folded…?" then went back to drooling.
Shadeclaw's grin widened. "Finally," he said. "The dragon learns to bite."
On the platform, Danny walked over as Swift forced himself to stand.
Swift looked at his own hands, at the faint traces of silver still crawling across his skin.
He wasn't shaking.
He was… steady.
Danny laid a hand on his shoulder. "How's the fear?" he asked quietly.
"Still there," Swift admitted. His voice was rough, but sure. "Just not driving anymore."
Danny smiled faintly. "Good."
Swift looked across the arena, into the far shadows where no opponent stood—where only memory and the aftertaste of Bones' illusions lingered.
His jaw clenched.
"I'll be ready for him," he said.
Whether Bones could hear him or not didn't matter.
Swift could.
And for the first time since dying without dying, he believed it.