The arena floor had seen too much.
The stone was no longer a smooth, proud battleground; it was a patchwork of scars. Cracked plates, partially melted surfaces from Danny's golden eruptions, gouges and scorched crescents from wolves and dragons and things that didn't have proper names. Builder-bots zipped across the surface like panicked beetles, filling in the worst of the fractures with hissing streams of repair-matter, but even they seemed to understand they were buying time, not restoring glory.
The crowd sensed it too.
Their cheers came quicker now, but they broke into anxious murmurs between matches. Adrenaline was fighting with the primitive awareness that this many apex predators in one place was a bad long-term survival strategy.
Jimmy cleared his throat, the sound popping through the speakers. "Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished monsters and things that allegedly have blood pressure—if your heart hasn't exploded yet, congratulations, you might make it to the end of the bracket."
Julian adjusted his glasses, eyes not leaving his console. "Arena structural stability has dropped another three percent. We are now operating at 'please don't sneeze too hard' levels."
"I would never," Jimmy said. "I sneeze with dignity."
On the fighters' platform, Jake did not feel dignified.
His heart was hammering in his chest like it was trying to punch its way out and flee. His hands, wrapped tight in reinforced tape, had started to sweat. The Bronze Dragon scales etched across his arms and collarbone shimmered faintly as his chi shifted in agitated pulses, his body trying to decide between fight, flight, or nervous dance routine.
"Okay," he muttered to himself. "Alright. Okay. Jake, listen. You've been punched by worse. You've been kicked by worse. You've been—okay, you haven't been slashed by worse, but that's a new experience waiting to happen. Don't undersell growth."
Next to him, Swift leaned on the rail, silver eyes on the arena. The bruises from Kharn hadn't fully faded yet. His own fight with the Wolf King loomed ahead like a dark mountain, but right now his attention was fixed on Jake.
"You don't have to joke," Swift said quietly. "You're allowed to be scared."
"I am scared," Jake said. "That's why I'm joking. You want serious Jake, you wait until after the fight when I'm lying in a tank."
"Hey." Swift nudged his shoulder. "You made it to the Final Eight. That's not nothing."
"Shadeclaw made it too," Jake muttered. "He's not 'nothing' either. He's very much something. A something with claws. And fangs. And shadows that don't obey the laws of physics."
Swift didn't deny it.
Across the platform, Shadeclaw watched Jake with lazy, predatory interest. His fur was dark and glossy, his eyes bright gold slits that seemed to drink in every twitch. There was nothing bulky about him; he was lean and coiled, like a blade wrapped in muscle. His shadow pooled at his feet, just a little too dark, just a little too deep.
Ember Claw stood near the Wolf King and Queen, arms folded, still radiating the cool intensity of someone who had just beaten a monarch in fair combat. Wolf Queen, wrapped in a medic's cloak over her armor, watched Shadeclaw and Jake with a faint smirk. Wolf King said nothing at all.
Danny stood a little apart, gaze distant. The revelation about Sedge Hat had carved something deep in him. His eyes drifted toward the arena, then past it, pulled to places only he could see. His aura shimmered faintly around his edges, gold slipping in and out like a heartbeat out of rhythm.
The loudspeaker crackled again.
"Next match," the system voice intoned, "SHADECLAW of the Shadowed Howl versus JAKE of the Bronze Lineage."
The crowd roared.
Shadeclaw's grin widened; it was far too full of teeth.
Jake swallowed. "Well," he exhaled. "That's my cue."
Swift clapped him on the back. "Be stubborn," he said. "It's your best trait."
"Not my charm?"
"That too," Swift said. "But Shadeclaw doesn't care about charm."
"Rude of him," Jake muttered, and stepped onto the lift.
The platform hummed as it descended. The arena's patched floor rose around him, heat radiating upward from the not-quite-cooled stone. The barrier flickered to life with a soft hum, sealing him in with the knowledge that whatever happened next had to be decided in here.
The opposite gate opened without fanfare.
Shadeclaw did not stride out. He did not stalk. He simply appeared, slipping through the shadow of the gate like someone stepping from one room into another. His movements were too quiet. Too smooth. His claws tapped once against stone, but the sound was swallowed almost immediately.
Jake inhaled.
He let the Bronze Dragon chi rise.
His body changed—not into a full dragon, not the towering form Danny could wield, but into the compact, brutal efficiency of the Bronze Dragon humanoid style. Scales rippled under his skin, hardening along his forearms, his shoulders, his chest. His fists grew denser, fingers tipped with blunt, hammer-like strength. His tail emerged, long and muscular, adding balance and force.
Shadeclaw watched the transformation, head tilting slightly.
"You're smaller than I expected," Shadeclaw said. His voice was smooth and low, with a faint growl at the edges.
Jake rolled his neck, trying to ignore the way his pulse thundered in his ears. "You're exactly as nightmarish as I expected, so that's good. Nice to see expectations met."
Shadeclaw's lips pulled back from his teeth in something like amusement. "Jokes," he murmured. "Fear with rhythm."
"That's what I said," Jake said. "Or would have said, eventually. Good ear."
Shadeclaw circled him slowly, steps whisper-quiet. "You saw me in the chaos rounds," he said. "You watched me tear out hearts."
"I saw you beat down people who didn't know how to handle you," Jake said. "I've been paying attention."
"Have you?" Shadeclaw's eyes gleamed.
In the booth above, Jimmy sucked air through his teeth. "Ooooh this is gonna be rough, folks. On one side, we have Shadeclaw—predator, assassin, the guy your therapist warns you about. On the other side, we have Jake—Bronze Dragon punch boy, the guy your therapist forgets to warn you about because they assume he died already."
Julian flicked through data. "Shadeclaw's speed indexes are top-tier even among wolves. Jake's durability is high, but his response times…" He winced. "This is not a favorable matchup."
"Translation," Jimmy said, "is that Jake's face is about to learn some hard life lessons."
The bell chimed.
Shadeclaw moved.
He was on Jake before the sound finished ringing, a smear of dark fur and brighter eyes. Jake threw his arms up on instinct, and claws scraped across Bronze scales, leaving white-hot lines of pain.
The next hit came from the side, a heavy kick that Jake barely glimpsed before it sank into his ribs. Air exploded from his lungs. He staggered, reflexively swinging a counterpunch that hit nothing but a flicker of shadow.
Shadeclaw was already behind him.
Jake twisted. Claws bit into his back; he hissed, spinning with a wild haymaker that cut through empty air as Shadeclaw flipped out of reach, landing lightly on the cracked stone.
Jake sucked in a ragged breath.
"Fast," he wheezed. "You're… very fast."
Shadeclaw tilted his head. "You are very loud."
He moved again.
Jake braced himself—then lost track of Shadeclaw entirely.
The assassin's movements weren't just fast; they were deceptive. He blurred at the edges, his shadow dragging slightly behind him, making it hard to tell where his real body ended and the warped darkness began. Jake got an arm up just in time to block a strike at his head—felt his forearm flare with pain as claws raked over hardened scales—but a follow-up kick scythed his legs out from under him.
He hit the ground hard. Claws grabbed his collar, hauling him up and flinging him across the arena in the same movement. Jake bounced, rolled, and crashed into a chunk of leftover stone from a previous crater, the impact rattling his teeth.
The crowd winced as one.
Jake groaned, pushing himself up onto one knee. His chest burned. His back screamed. His tail spasmed.
Shadeclaw approached at a leisurely pace.
"Dragons," he said softly. "Always so sure they are apex. But in the dark… you don't see the teeth until it's too late."
Jake spat blood to the side, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and forced himself upright. "You talk like a guy who practices monologues in the mirror."
Shadeclaw's eyes narrowed, amused. "You cling to jokes. It's cute."
"Cute is my brand," Jake said. "Please like and subscribe."
Shadeclaw laughed once—a short, sharp sound. Then he vanished again.
Jake exhaled, grounding himself. He stopped trying to track Shadeclaw with his eyes and started listening. The scrape of claws. The breath. The subtle displacement of air. He raised his guard, turning, trying to follow the faintest hints.
A glancing blow raked his shoulder, scales sparking. Another strike clipped his jaw, snapping his head sideways. A kick dug into his gut, sending him stumbling.
Each one hurt.
But each one taught him something.
He realized, slowly, that Shadeclaw wasn't just playing with him. He was dissecting him—testing his reactions, probing his limits, finding which angles worked best.
Jake's lips pulled back from his teeth.
He knew this game.
Kharn had tried to break Swift's mind. Sedge Hat had spent years breaking Danny's life. Shadeclaw wanted to break Jake's rhythm.
Jake refused.
He let the Bronze Dragon chi sink deeper. It pushed outwards along his bones, thickening the scales along his arms, his shoulders, his chest. His fists glowed faintly with earthy energy, heavy and solid. His stance widened.
Shadeclaw lunged again, claws blurring toward his face.
Jake didn't parry this time.
He slammed both forearms up and took the blow head-on.
Claws screeched across scales, sending sparks flying. Pain flared, but Jake held.
His feet slid back an inch. No more.
Shadeclaw's eyes widened a fraction.
Jake grinned. "Got you."
He pivoted and threw a brutal hook with his left hand.
Shadeclaw twisted his body at the last second, avoiding a direct hit—but the punch still clipped his ribs with enough force to send a ripple through his fur. Shadeclaw hissed, slipping away, landing light but less perfectly than before.
Jake shook out his hand. His knuckles stung.
"Okay," he said through breath that came too fast. "New game. You're fast. I get it. But I hit like a dropped piano."
Up on the platform, Swift's shoulders relaxed by a millimeter. "He's adjusting," he murmured.
Ember Claw made a quiet sound of approval. "He stopped running."
Danny's eyes flicked, the faintest hint of focus returning to the present.
Shadeclaw circled again, a touch more wary now.
"Interesting," he said. "You strengthen the places I cut. Bronze dragon. Always building armor where it hurts."
Jake shrugged one shoulder, wincing. "Yeah, well, if you're gonna hit me, I might as well turn it into a home renovation project."
Shadeclaw blurred.
Jake braced—not to dodge, but to keep his feet planted.
The next flurry hurt. Claws carved shallow tracks across his scales, dug into his sides where the plating wasn't as thick, clipped his jaw. But Jake stayed standing, absorbing as much as he could, swinging back with heavy, punishing blows whenever the slightest opening appeared.
He didn't land many. Shadeclaw was too slick.
But he landed some.
And that mattered.
The arena floor began to show the story—not through words, but through the marks the two of them left. Shadeclaw's strikes carved narrow slashes into the stone, light, quick, precise. Jake's footsteps and fists left craters and spiderweb fractures, heavy and deliberate.
Julian watched the pattern develop. "They are polar opposites. Shadeclaw relies on speed and precision; Jake relies on durability and impact. Under normal circumstances, Shadeclaw should win handily."
Jimmy pointed at the feed. "Key phrase, Jules. 'Under normal circumstances.' When have we had those?"
Shadeclaw snarled as Jake's fist slammed into his thigh, nearly buckling his leg. The assassin sprang backward, landing lightly, the muscles in his leg twitching.
He licked a line of blood off his own arm, eyes gleaming.
"Enough," Shadeclaw said softly.
The air around him darkened.
His fur bristled outward, a halo of shadow forming around him. His claws extended, each one a curved hook of darkness that seemed to drink in the light. His pupils slit thinner. His shadow detached fractionally from his feet, stretching and flexing as if it had a mind of its own.
Jake's stomach dropped. "Oh good," he muttered. "A power-up. That's what we needed."
Shadeclaw's next movement was not just fast—it was wrong.
He didn't run across the floor. He flowed, his body and shadow blurring together, his form shifting between positions with no visible path in between. One heartbeat he was in front of Jake; the next he was behind him, claws digging into the back of Jake's arm.
Jake shouted, swinging backward, tail whipping around in a desperate arc. Shadeclaw ducked under it, his shadow sliding in the opposite direction, claws scraping against Jake's shin.
Swift's hands tightened on the rail. "He's using shadow-step."
Ember Claw's jaw clenched. "Jake can't track it."
Jake tried.
He really did.
He dropped his center of gravity, widened his stance, tried to feel Shadeclaw's approach through the vibrations in the floor, through the air shifting. But Shadeclaw's new movements didn't follow ordinary rules. They came from angles that didn't exist, from directions that weren't lines but curves wrapping around reality.
Claws opened new wounds. Cuts across shoulders and sides. Rakes along his back. Jake's Bronze scales held back the worst of it, but they weren't invincible.
Something warm ran down his side.
He forced himself to ignore it.
Shadeclaw appeared in front of him, close enough that Jake could see his own reflection in those golden eyes.
"You cannot win this," Shadeclaw murmured. "You know that, yes?"
Jake's lungs burned. Every breath hurt. His vision was beginning to tighten at the edges, narrowing down to Shadeclaw's grin.
"Probably not," Jake wheezed. "But hey. Neither could half the people you fought, and they still tried. I'm not gonna be the one who wimps out."
Shadeclaw's grin sharpened. "Good. Prey that fights is more fun."
He lunged.
Jake didn't back up.
He stepped forward.
Their bodies collided in a tangle of fur and scale and claws and fists. Shadeclaw's claws carved shallow furrows down Jake's chest; Jake's head smashed into Shadeclaw's nose in a messy, painful, utterly inelegant headbutt.
The crack echoed across the arena.
Shadeclaw staggered back, eyes wide, blood streaming from his nose.
Jake reeled as well, both hands going to his own skull. "OH that was a mistake," he groaned. "My brain is soup. Why did I think that was a good idea?"
Jimmy shrieked, "THAT'S NOT A TECHNIQUE, THAT'S A CRY FOR HELP!"
Julian blinked. "…effective, though."
Shadeclaw wiped at his nose, staring at the red on his fingers.
Then he laughed.
"You are ridiculous," he said. "And infuriating."
Jake swayed. "I contain multitudes."
Shadeclaw's shadow pulsed, stretching along the ground.
"This ends now," Shadeclaw said.
He vanished.
The world narrowed into flashes—claws, hind legs, teeth, shadow. Jake blocked what he could, his forearms taking more damage, his scales cracking in places. He managed to land another body blow—a heavy punch to Shadeclaw's side that sent the assassin skidding—but that only fueled Shadeclaw's resolve.
The assassin stopped playing.
He pounced from above, claws leading, shadow spearing downward as well.
Jake had a split-second to react.
He knew he couldn't fully dodge.
So he didn't.
He shifted half a step, presenting his shoulder instead of his throat.
Shadeclaw hit like a meteor.
Claws slammed into Jake's shoulder, scales cracking under the force. Pain exploded down Jake's arm. He shouted—but his hands were already moving, closing around Shadeclaw's wrists.
He held on.
Shadeclaw's eyes went wide.
Jake grinned weakly through the pain. "Got you again."
He slammed his forehead into Shadeclaw's face one more time.
Shadeclaw's head snapped back. The hold broke. They both stumbled.
Jake wound up, drawing every last scrap of Bronze Dragon chi into his right fist. It felt like his arm was being packed with lead and lightning.
He swung.
Shadeclaw's shadow lashed out at his legs.
Jake's foot caught.
He faltered.
The punch veered off target, grazing Shadeclaw's side instead of smashing into his chest. It still landed heavy, still sent a shock through the assassin's body—but it wasn't the killing blow Jake needed.
Shadeclaw snarled and spun.
His claws, wreathed in shadow, cut across Jake's chest in a powerful, decisive arc. The impact tore through weakened scales, sending him flying backward. He hit the ground on his back, the breath blasted out of him.
The arena spun overhead.
Jake tried to get up.
His body refused.
His arms shook, but didn't lift him. His legs felt like they were bolted to the floor. His chest burned with every tiny inhale.
Shadeclaw approached slowly this time, chest rising and falling harder than before, fur matted in place where Jake's punches had landed. His nose was crooked. One eye was swelling.
He still walked like the predator in control.
Jake made one last effort to push himself up.
Shadeclaw stepped behind him in a blur and pressed a clawed hand lightly against his throat—not enough to break skin, but enough to signal how quickly he could.
"Stay down," Shadeclaw said softly.
Jake thought about fighting anyway, about scraping until his nails broke, about refusing to quit even when it meant nothing.
Then he exhaled.
A ragged, defeated—but not broken—sound.
He let his hands go limp.
The bell rang.
"WINNER: SHADECLAW."
The crowd erupted.
Some screamed in thrill. Others in relief. A few booed, because there were still some people who looked at Jake and saw the underdog they wanted to believe in.
Medbots zipped across the arena, field generators humming as they scanned Jake's injuries. Shadeclaw removed his hand and stepped back, letting them work.
He looked down at Jake, head tilting.
"You were not prey," he said quietly. "You fought upward."
Jake coughed once, eyes glassy, lips twitching. "That… better mean I… get a good review…"
Shadeclaw's grin returned, smaller this time. "Three out of ten difficulty. For a dragonling, that is promising."
Jake tried to laugh and wheezed instead.
Swift was already on his way down the stairs, boots slamming against metal. Ember Claw followed at a calmer pace. Danny stayed where he was, staring, but his gaze seemed clearer than it had at the start of the match.
Swift reached Jake just as the medbots began lifting him onto a floating stretcher. "Hey," Swift said, forcing a grin. "You're still alive."
"Unfortunately," Jake rasped. "I had a whole afterlife itinerary planned…"
Swift snorted. "You did great."
Jake's head lolled to the side. "Tell that… to my everything…"
Shadeclaw turned away, padding back toward the tunnel, his shadow slinking along behind him like a living echo. Wolf King watched him with clear approval. Wolf Queen inclined her head faintly.
Ember Claw looked from Shadeclaw to the retreating stretcher and back again, thoughtful.
On the mic, Jimmy shouted, "JAKE SURVIVED A SHADECLAW ASSAULT AND ONLY MOSTLY DIED! I CALL THAT A TECHNICAL VICTORY FOR MORALE!"
Julian exhaled slowly. "Shadeclaw exerted more effort than expected. Jake's resistance altered his pacing."
"Translation: he made the assassin work for it, folks," Jimmy said. "Bronze Dragon Kid may not be moving on, but he did not make it easy."
The medbots floated Jake up toward the higher level, Swift walking alongside, hand resting on the stretcher's side.
Jake squinted at Danny as he passed. "Hey… golden boy…"
Danny blinked, as if waking from a half-dream. "Yeah?"
"Don't… let your fight be that one-sided," Jake muttered. "Bad for the brand."
Danny huffed a quiet sound that might, in a kinder world, have been a laugh. "I'll try."
Jake's eyes slid closed.
The stretcher moved on.
The arena noise swelled and ebbed like an enormous living thing.
Shadeclaw disappeared into the tunnel, a shadow among shadows.
Up above, Wolf King rolled his neck slowly, golden eyes gleaming. His aura shifted, filling the arena more fully now that another fight had concluded.
The loudspeaker boomed once more.
"Next match: THE WOLF KING versus SWIFT."
Swift's stomach dropped.
Wolf King smiled—a slow, anticipatory baring of teeth.
Danny's aura flared faintly, sensing the impending collision between King and Silver Dragon.
The builder-bots finished repairing one crack and immediately began scanning for others.
The tournament rolled on.