Elara slung the scythe over her shoulder and walked toward the tunnel, her steps sharp with irritation.
It didn't make sense at first. She'd won, decisively. So why the stormcloud energy?
I ran the match back in my mind. The flow. The strikes. The way she moved.
But nothing came to mind.
"So, what'd you think?" Jaime said behind me. He was drying his face, his voice casual.
'Did he just flash me?' I blinked, shoved the image out of my head, and answered.
"She was pretty good. Her vast combat experience really shined."
"Yeah. She looked like a natural, you wouldn't know she had never used a scythe before."
"She might win that bet if you aren't careful."
Jaime sank onto the couch, folding his arms, eyes narrowing as he mulled it over.
'What's he thinking about?' I was about to ask when I caught him muttering under his breath:
"What should I start calling her?"
I held back a sigh. He clearly had no idea his match was up next. I opened my mouth to tell him—
—but then Elara walked in.
'She took her time. I wonder what she was doing.'
Whatever tension had been radiating off her had dissolved, leaving behind a calm that reminded me of the ocean at night—serene on the surface, but endless beneath.
I wasn't sure if I found it peaceful or unsettling.
She strolled over and dropped Jaime's scythe into his lap before sitting beside him.
"So," he said, cocking an eyebrow, "how was it?"
Elara tilted her head, as if still chewing on the experience.
"Interesting," she said at last.
Jaime blinked. "Oh? How so?"
"I've never used a scythe before, it was fun."
"I see." Jaime got up and put the scythe over his shoulder. "Well, my match is next. Lemme show you how it's done."
"Wait."
Before Jaime could get to the entrance of the tunnel I stopped him.
"Are you gonna go out there like that?"
The only thing Jaime had on him was a towel, his necklace and his sunglasses. He looked ridiculous. Surely he wasn't going to fight like that… right?
Jaime looked at himself from top to bottom and just smiled at me and said, "It'll be fine, This isn't the first time I've fought naked."
"Don't remind me."
After saying this, Jaime turned around and entered the tunnel. I put out my cigarette, got out of the hot tub, put on a towel, and dropped onto the couch beside Elara, still dripping. She didn't look at me, just stared at the tunnel with an amused expression.
Barely a minute passed before I decided to ask Elara something that had been bugging me.
"How old are you?"
She blinked, surprised by the question. I'd been curious for a while but never got around to asking, especially after seeing her fight.
"I'm in my early three hundreds. So I should be around your age in human years."
'So that makes her what? Twenty-two, Drakonid years?'
"How does time work for you Drakonids, anyway? Are decades and centuries just… brief blinks?"
"Not at all," Elara said, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "We're not like the Elves."
I raised a brow, and she elaborated.
"Elves treat time like a dream. After a thousand years, they stop counting. To them, aging's just a concept. But for us? Time shapes us. Our strength deepens with age, and mastery only comes through centuries of struggle."
'They get stronger with age, huh?'
This wasn't surprising, but it made the weight of the journey I was about to embark on settle heavily on my shoulders.
I turned to Elara, ready to ask another question, but the roar from the TV pulled me back. Jaime's match had started.
"ALRIGHT FOLKS, THIS NEXT MATCH IS GONNA BE A BANGER!"
"IT'S THE FAN FAVORITE—JAIME LOCKE!"
"AND HIS OPPONENT: A NEWCOMER! THEA!"
Jaime stood at the center of the arena, grinning like he'd just stepped onto a beach. Loose shoulders. Barely blinking. Completely unbothered.
His opponent was a blonde woman with piercing blue eyes and flawless skin, too flawless. There was something off about it. Smooth in an unnatural way. It made my skin crawl.
I would've called her beautiful, if she didn't look like she'd been manufactured.
Black shirt. Black leather pants. Her glare could shred concrete. It reminded me of Elara earlier.
'Is something in the air?'
She wielded twin daggers—slim, curved, with a violet gleam along the edges and a dark, matte finish at their core. Flashy. Daggers were a garbage choice. No reach. No power. All risk. I never understood why anyone still used them, unless they were compensating for something.
The match began with Thea exploding forward, fast, much faster than I expected. Her right dagger shot toward Jaime's chest. Jaime caught the strike on his scythe, steel ringing, but Thea was already moving. She whipped a kick at his head. He arched back, air brushing his nose, then a dagger flashed for his left eye.
Jaime slammed the end of his scythe into the ground and used it as a pivot. He snapped a kick across Thea's wrist, her dagger spun away. He flipped back in a clean handspring, landing several meters out of reach with his guard up, his body tensed and steady.
Thea flicked her hand out and caught the spinning dagger midair. Even behind his glasses, Jaime's posture sharpened, no more lazy smirk. That brief exchange had wiped away his playfulness.
Thea blurred forward, blades flashing. She brought both daggers down in a vicious cross-cut. Jaime twisted his scythe up just in time, steel screamed as the blades met.
Unfazed, Thea let her momentum roll. Her daggers slid along the length of his scythe, scraping toward his fingers. Jaime yanked back and shoved her off, driving a counterstrike down like an executioner's axe, but she slipped aside.
Then the real attack began.
Her daggers came alive, a relentless storm of steel. Jaime caught every strike, his scythe spinning between offense and defense, but she gave him nothing. No opening. No breath. Step by step, she forced him back. However, Jaime stayed calm, sliding his hand to the scythe's butt before whipping it like a hammer. Thea jerked back, surprise flashing across her face as the strike tore past her nose.
Blood ran from the bridge of Thea's nose and pattered onto the floor. She wiped it with the back of her hand and grinned.
Jaime answered with a crooked smirk and raised his guard.
Thea crouched low. Her muscles coiled. Then she launched forward—faster than before, a blur closing in—
—and stopped.
Jaime froze mid-shift, confused but cautious. The room held its breath.
Thea slid her daggers into their sheaths. "I forfeit," she said flatly.
Jaime's brows pulled together. "Wait—"
But she had already turned away, vanishing into the tunnel without another word.
Jaime scratched his head before heading down his tunnel. A few minutes later, he came back to us, still looking dazed.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Elara beat him to it. "You lost."
Jaime speechless looked at me, hoping for my help. I just shook my head shrugging my shoulders. There was nothing I could say in his defence, Elara did perform better than him.
'His fault for being dumb.'
With a sigh, he raised a hand and dismissed his scythe in a flash of light. "We're not actually taking that bet seriously, right?" he asked, sweat beading at his temple.
Elara crossed one leg over the other, all smug confidence. "We are. And from now on, you'll do what I say."
Jaime froze. I couldn't see his eyes behind those glasses, but I could feel the panic setting in.