Underwater, Lucius stopped moving.
The instinct to thrash, to fight the water, to panic—he forced it all down. His body wanted to flail. His lungs wanted to scream for air. His survival instincts demanded immediate action.
But panic would kill him faster than drowning.
He hung there in the water, suspended, letting himself sink slowly while his mind worked at impossible speed.
But that didn't solve the fundamental problem.
He couldn't swim.
Think.
Movies. Books. Documentaries. Anything he'd ever seen about swimming. His photographic memory pulled up fragments—Olympic swimmers on television, technique demonstrations, that one time Jasmine tried to explain treading water but his dumbass refused to practice thinking it was unessary, documentaries about marine biology showing how humans moved through water versus how fish did.
Fragments. Pieces. Not instructions.
His mind began constructing a framework. Arms—they needed to push water downward to create upward force. Legs—kicking motion, but not like walking. More like... scissors? No, that was side-stroke. Flutter kick? Frog kick?
Body position was wrong. He was vertical when he should be more horizontal. Center of mass needed adjustment. Buoyancy depended on lung capacity—keep air in, float better.
His arms moved experimentally. Not flailing now—controlled. Pushing water down, feeling resistance, adjusting angle. More surface area meant more force transferred. Cup the hands slightly.
His legs tried the motion he'd constructed mentally. Kick. Not up and down—that did nothing. Back and forth. Generate thrust.
The movements were clumsy, inefficient, using far too much energy. But he was starting to understand the mechanics. Water was denser than air. Resistance was everything. Small adjustments in angle created massive differences in force.
His body began rising slowly.
He kicked harder, arms pushing in rhythm now. The coordination was terrible—nothing like fluid movements of actual swimmers—but it was working. He was ascending.
Light above. Surface visible through disturbed water.
His lungs burned slightly, but nowhere near critical. Still plenty of time.
He broke through.
Air flooded his lungs. He coughed once, but kept moving his arms and legs in that approximation of swimming. Staying afloat. Barely.
"He's up!" Jamal called out. "King resurfaces! Looks like he figured out the swimming situation!"
"Adaptive problem-solving under pressure," Haurang noted. "Though his technique is still quite rough."
In the hidden observation room, Hannah leaned back slightly, tension leaving her shoulders. 'Interesting. Very interesting.'
On the arena floor, William Walker treaded water nearby, exhausted and injured but still mobile. He looked at Lucius with mild surprise. "Thought you were done there."
Lucius kept his movements going, still clumsy but functional. "Not yet."
But there was no time for conversation.
The water around them began moving.
Not random currents—organized rotation. The entire body of water in arena pit started spinning, slowly at first, then building speed.
Both fighters noticed simultaneously.
Beneath surface, visible through increasingly turbulent water, Plague's centipedes were moving. The ones that had survived initial flood were now positioned in circle, their massive bodies creating coordinated current.
A whirlpool.
"That's not good," William said, already feeling the pull.
The rotation accelerated. Water spiraled inward toward arena center, creating depression that deepened with every second. The edges moved faster, dragging everything toward middle where centipedes' coordinated movement created vortex.
William tried to swim against it, his athletic conditioning and partial speed ability giving him enough strength to resist initially. But he was exhausted from earlier fighting, injured from multiple insect attacks, and current was getting stronger.
His resistance weakened. The pull dragged him sideways, slowly but inevitably toward center.
Lucius fared even worse. His barely-functional swimming technique couldn't generate enough force to counter current. The whirlpool pulled him in faster, his body spiraling toward vortex center.
At arena's edge, Plague stood on one of his remaining tall centipedes, hands crossed behind back, perfectly balanced despite violent water movement below.
Lucius felt the pull strengthening. rotation accelerating. Once he hit the vortex proper, he'd be pulled under completely.
'This would end so fast if I just used hydrokinesis. Stop the whirlpool. Freeze every centipede. Done in seconds.'
The irony was almost funny.
He pushed the thought aside. Focus.
Think.
His new swimming skills weren't enough. Fighting current directly was pointless—would just exhaust him faster.
He needed an anchor.
The electromagnetic barriers surrounded arena pit, containing water. Solid surfaces. Stationary.
The whirlpool was not yet at its full power, the could use th momentum of the pull to his advantage get close enough to the berrier walls and use his arm, use his ability.
The crystallization ability he'd demonstrated during tribunal. Liquids that contacted his prosthetic transformed into crystalline structures.
Lucius stopped fighting current. He let it pull him, but angled his trajectory toward barrier wall. The spiral motion carried him closer to edge with each rotation removing part of the bandages on his left arm.
Almost there.
He reached out with his left hand, fingers extending toward electromagnetic field's edge where it met arena wall.
His crystalline prosthetic made contact with barrier surface.
The effect was immediate.
Where his hand touched, water began changing. Not freezing—the transformation was different. Liquid solidified into clear, geometric crystal formations that grew from contact point, spreading in angular patterns along barrier surface.
The crystals expanded rapidly, creating solid structure that anchored to both barrier and Lucius's prosthetic. Within three seconds, he had a handhold—crystalline formations strong enough to support his weight, integrated with barrier wall.
The whirlpool's pull tried to drag him away, but crystal anchor held.
Lucius's other hand shot out—not crystalline, just normal flesh—and grabbed William's wrist as the sprinter spiraled past.
"Got you!"
William's momentum tried to rip them both away, but Lucius's grip on crystalline anchor held. They hung there together, suspended by Lucius's left arm while whirlpool raged around them.
William breathed hard, injured leg throbbing. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
Plague watched from his perch. "Fascinating. But you're only delaying the inevitable."
His throat convulsed. Mouth opening wider than should be anatomically possible.
He vomited again.
Not larvae this time—eggs. Hundreds of them, each marble-sized, cascading from his mouth in grotesque stream. They hit water and immediately began hatching, shells cracking open to release what was inside.
The water's surface erupted with movement.
Water striders emerged first—but nothing like their normal counterparts. These were three feet long, bodies segmented and covered in water-repellent coating letting them walk on surface despite their size. Their legs were sharp as needles, each step dimpling water's surface tension. Six legs per creature, all moving with spider-like coordination.
They skittered across whirlpool's surface, dozens of them, heading directly toward Lucius and William.
Then the armored diving beetles surfaced.
Four feet long, bodies covered in thick black carapace that looked like military armor. Their heads bore thick horns designed for ramming. They didn't walk on water—they dove beneath and used whirlpool's current to build velocity, launching themselves at targets like living torpedoes.
And from deeper in water, something massive began rising.
A shadow beneath surface, growing larger as it ascended. Legs appeared first—eight of them, each one thick as a man's arm, covered in coarse hair that trapped air bubbles.
A diving bell spider. But grotesquely oversized.
Fifteen feet across counting leg span. Its body was bloated, covered in fine hairs that trapped silvery coating of air—the diving bell that let it breathe underwater. Multiple eyes reflected light with alien gleam.
It surfaced slowly, those eight legs finding purchase on water's surface through some combination of surface tension and trapped air. It oriented toward the two fighters, mandibles clicking.
"New problem," William said quietly.
"Tell me about it," Lucius replied.
The giant spider moved forward, legs dimpling water with each step. Water striders scattered to make room. The armored beetles circled below, waiting for openings.
And throughout all of it, more centipedes moved beneath surface—smaller ones now, normal-sized, creating whirlpool and ready to attack if anything fell into water proper.
"I can't maintain this position," Lucius said, his left arm straining to hold both their weight against current. "The crystal anchor is stable but my shoulder isn't."
"So what's the plan?"
"You tell me. You're the one with speed ability."
William looked at giant spider approaching, water striders flanking it, beetles circling below. His injured leg throbbed. His ribs hurt from earlier impacts. He was exhausted.
But he still had one good burst left.
Maybe.
"I can take out the spider and probably some of the other bugs. But I'll be done after. Completely spent."
"Then make it count. If you wanna live"
William nodded. "Get me to a platform. Something stable."
Lucius looked around. The crystalline structure he'd created was the only solid surface nearby. "Climb onto this."
William pulled himself up, using angular crystal formations as handholds. They were sharp, cutting into his palms, but they were stable. He reached top section where crystals were thickest, finding narrow platform just wide enough to stand on.
The giant spider was ten feet away now, moving steadily forward.
William crouched, compressing his legs. His speed ability activated—not sustained velocity he'd used during earlier fight, but everything focused into one explosive burst.
Speedster Mode.
His muscles coiled like springs. Energy built in his legs, his core, every fiber focused on generating maximum acceleration.
The spider's front legs rose, preparing to strike.
William launched.
The acceleration was visible as shockwave through air. He shot forward faster than human eye could track, his body a blur moving well past speed of sound.
CRACK.
The sonic boom followed a heartbeat later.
William's fist drove into spider's central body mass. Force transferred through completely—spider's abdomen exploded inward, internal organs rupturing, diving bell of trapped air bursting. Creature flew backward, dead before it hit water.
But William didn't stop.
He bounced.
His trajectory carried him to electromagnetic barrier wall. His feet touched surface, compressed like springs, and launched him again.
CRACK.
Another sonic boom. Another impossible burst of speed.
He became a pinball, bouncing between barrier walls at angles that defied normal physics. Each impact let him redirect, build more velocity, target new enemies.
—
Meanwhile, below, Lucius had released the crystalline anchor.
He dropped into water, his terrible swimming technique barely keeping him mobile. The whirlpool's pull had weakened significantly—William's speedster assault was killing the centipedes creating it as they dove out of the water to attack.
One of the armored beetles spotted him. It dove deep, building velocity, then launched upward like a torpedo.
Lucius saw it coming. Twisted in water—clumsy, inefficient—but enough to avoid the horn. The beetle breached where he'd been a moment before, crashed back down.
Two water striders skittered across surface toward him, sharp legs seeking targets.
Lucius's right hand shot out as he surfaced, grabbed one of the strider's legs, and crushed it. The creature lost balance, toppled into water where whirlpool's weakening current still dragged it under.
The second strider lunged. Lucius dove under surface to avoid it, his lungs still had plenty of air, no urgency yet.
Another diving bell spider—smaller than the first, but still twelve feet across—rose from the depths near him. Its legs moved through water with practiced coordination, closing distance rapidly.
Lucius didn't swim away. He swam toward it.
Grabbed one of the legs with his right hand—normal flesh—and used it to pull himself along the leg's length toward spider's body.
The spider tried to shake him off. Its other legs struck at him, trying to dislodge this unexpected prey.
Lucius climbed. Used coarse hairs on spider's legs as handholds despite them cutting into his palm. Pulled himself higher, closer to main body.
Spider's mandibles tried to reach him but couldn't bend at right angle. He was too close, in blind spot.
He reached the abdomen—that massive diving bell of trapped air.
Then kept climbing. Up spider's back, toward its head, using legs as ladder.
Creature thrashed, trying to roll in water, trying to dislodge him.
Lucius's left hand—crystalline prosthetic—grabbed one of the legs near head for stability.
Where his prosthetic touched, crystallization began. The leg started transforming, liquid coating turning to geometric crystal formations.
He pulled himself to very top of spider's head, positioned himself above its cluster of eyes.
Pulled back his right fist.
Then drove it down with everything he had.
CRACK.
His fist punched through spider's exoskeleton. Through skull. Into brain cavity below.
The spider convulsed once, legs spasming.
Then went still.
Dead.
Lucius rode its corpse as it sank, using last moments before it fully submerged to kick off, launching himself back toward the walls.
Above water, William's speedster assault continued.
CRACK. Bounce. CRACK. Bounce.
A water strider tried to intercept. William's fist punched clean through its body, creature torn in half by sheer momentum.
An armored beetle surfaced, horn leading. William's kick connected with its carapace, shattering armor, killing it instantly.
The centipedes creating whirlpool tried to surface and attack. William's trajectory carried him past three of them in rapid succession, each impact caving in exoskeletons, splattering internal fluids.
William continued his assault.
CRACK. Bounce. CRACK. Bounce.
He lined up his final attack.
Plague stood on his centipede at arena's edge, hands crossed behind back, watching with clinical interest rather than concern.
William compressed his legs against barrier wall one more time. Every ounce of remaining energy focused into this single strike. His target: Plague himself.
Launch.
CRACK.
The sonic boom was deafening. William shot across arena like missile, breaking through sound barrier, moving faster than he'd ever moved in his life.
Water bugs tried to intercept. He smashed through them without slowing.
Plague's eyes widened fractionally—first sign of genuine concern.
William's kick was perfect. Textbook form. All his momentum behind it. Aimed directly at Plague's abdomen.
It connected.
The impact broke through insect armor guard Plague wore beneath his robe. Force transferred to Plague's actual body, ribs cracking, organs compressing.
Plague gasped, eyes going wide.
But in that same instant, another centipede erupted from water beside them—one Plague had positioned specifically for this possibility.
Its mandibles closed around William's extended leg.
Mid-kick. Mid-momentum. The timing was perfect.
CRACK.
Different sound this time. Not sonic boom.
William's tibia fractured. The fibula followed immediately after. His leg bent at angle that shouldn't exist.
His scream was raw agony.
The centipede twisted, using William's own momentum against him. It whipped its head sideways, taking William with it, then released.
William's body flew through air like ragdoll, completely out of control.
But he didn't hit water.
He hit the crystalline platform Lucius had created—the solid surface now covering massive section of arena floor.
BOOM.
The impact was sickening. His body crumpled against crystalline surface with devastating force, then bounced once before going still.
He lay there, face-up, eyes unfocused. His broken leg trailed uselessly. Blood pooled beneath him on the crystal.
Completely out of the fight.
"WALKER IS DOWN!" Jamal called out. "That impact was BRUTAL!"
"Plague sacrificed positioning to eliminate him," Haurang noted. "Tactically sound trade."
Plague tumbled off his centipede's back, the kick's force finally catching up with him. He fell toward the crystalline platform below.
He landed roughly, the impact driving more air from his lungs. Several of his insect armor guards fell away, dead from absorbing kick's force.
But he was still conscious. Still dangerous.
He pushed himself up slowly, looking around at the changed battlefield.
The crystalline platform covered most of arena now. The remaining water bugs—beetles trapped below crystal, striders struggling on slippery surface—were mostly neutralized.
But there were still threats.
Near barrier wall, one of Plague's largest remaining centipedes moved through the water that surrounded the crystalline platform. Thirty feet long, body thick with armor.
It went towards plague and he hoped on its head. Oriented toward William's unconscious form lying on the crystal.
Then began moving forward, building speed. Preparing to ram straight through the crystalline surface to reach the helpless fighter.
Lucius saw it. Calculated distance. Timing.
Ran.
His boots found purchase on crystalline surface. He sprinted across geometric formations, angling to intercept.
The centipede lunged at William's position, mandibles wide, ready to crash through crystal and tear into unconscious prey.
Lucius dove.
His left hand extended, crystalline prosthetic leading.
His prosthetic drove into centipede's skull.
Contact was immediate and violent. Crystals erupted from impact point, spreading through creature's head like infection. Geometric formations burst from its eyes, its mouth, the joints between segments. The crystallization spread internally, transforming tissue into rigid crystal structures.
The centipede's momentum stopped instantly, body going rigid as internal structures crystallized and shattered.
The sudden halt threw Plague—who'd been riding this centipede, hands crossed behind back—forward through air.
He tumbled, his frail body having no grace in freefall, arms flailing, robe billowing.
He hit crystalline platform hard.
The impact drove air from his lungs. Several ribs that were already cracked from William's kick broke completely. His insects—the ones that had cushioned previous falls—were mostly dead now, unable to protect him.
He gasped, tried to push himself up, but his arms wouldn't support his weight.
Collapsed back down to crystalline surface.
Lucius approached slowly, his footsteps echoing on the crystal.
Plague crawled backward, still on ground, looking up at Lucius with eyes that were finally showing something other than clinical detachment.
Fear.
He tried to summon his insects. Reached for that connection his ability provided. Called for centipedes, for beetles, for spiders, for anything that remained.
Nothing came.
His eyes widened. He looked around frantically.
Centipede corpses everywhere. Massive bodies draped across crystalline surfaces, geometric formations protruding from wounds. Some crushed by William's speedster assault. Others crystallized by contact with Lucius's prosthetic.
Giant spiders—both of them—floated in remaining water, one with abdomen exploded, other with hole through skull. Crystalline fragments decorated both corpses.
Water striders lay scattered across slippery crystal surface, legs twisted at wrong angles, bodies torn in half.
Everything was dead or dying.
A crystalline wasteland.
Plague's breathing came in short, pained gasps. Reality of his situation settled over him.
For the first time in decades of systematic torture and experimentation, he felt genuine fear.
His mouth opened, words forming—
"I for—"
Lucius's left hand shot forward, grabbing Plague's face. Crystalline prosthetic covered the old man's mouth, cutting off speech.
Lucius's right hand rose slowly. Index finger extending. Pressing against his own lips.
"Shhh."
The gesture was gentle. Quiet. Deliberate.
Exactly like Plague had done to Diablo before systematically torturing him to death.
Plague's eyes went wide with recognition. With terror.
Lucius pulled back his right hand, leaving his left still gripping Plague's face, lifting the old man off ground by his head alone.
His crystalline fingers dug in slightly—not enough to penetrate, but enough to convey absolute control.
Lucius's right fist cocked back. Chambered. Ready.
'All it would take is pushing in just a bit more. That's all. The crystals would penetrate his skull. Brain death in seconds. He deserves it. All the suffering he's inflicted for data collection.'
His fingers tightened fractionally. Crystals dug deeper.
'But not here. Not yet. His time will come just not here.
His right fist drove forward.
Aimed at Plague's abdomen.
The punch broke through what remained of insect armor guard beneath Plague's robe. Shattered chitin. Crushed protective layers.
Then hit flesh.
The impact was devastating. Plague's eyes rolled back. Blood burst from his mouth around Lucius's crystalline grip. Internal organs compressed, ribs that were already cracked broke completely.
His body went limp.
Lucius released his face. Plague's unconscious form dropped to crystalline platform with heavy thud. Still breathing—barely—but completely out.
Silence fell across arena.
William Walker laying unconscious from his collision, leg shattered.
Plague lay on crystalline surface, knocked out cold, internal injuries severe but survivable.
Lucius stood alone in center of transformed battlefield, breathing controlled despite exertion, soaked in water and insect fluids, but standing.
The arena held its breath for one long moment.
Then Jamal's voice exploded through speakers:
"WINNER—KIIIIIIIIING!"
The crowd erupted. Noise was deafening—cheers, shouts, disbelief, awe, all blending into pure chaos.
"That was INCREDIBLE!" Jamal's voice carried genuine excitement. "King survives the water, defeats the bugs, and knocks out Plague!"
"The crystallization ability proved far more versatile than initially demonstrated," Haurang added. "Creating platforms, defensive structures, offensive applications—significantly more combat-capable than tribunal testimony suggested."
In the fighter section, Odd was on his feet. Liu Yan sat back with slow shake of head, impressed. Xu Leo Kim just stared, processing what he'd witnessed.
The circular water mechanism began drainage sequence. Holes reversed function, now pulling water back down instead of pumping it up. Flood level dropped rapidly—six inches per second, suction powerful enough to create audible gurgling.
The crystalline platform Lucius had created sank with water level. It cracked under its own weight as support diminished, geometric formations fragmenting, but it didn't completely crumble. Pieces remained intact even as they settled to arena floor below.
Medical personnel rushed onto field. One team headed for William, carefully stabilizing his broken leg. Another team approached Plague with obvious trepidation, checking vitals, preparing transport.
A third team reached Lucius.
Dr. Lois Sacah led them, expression showing professional concern mixed with exasperation.
"Can you walk?" she asked.
Lucius nodded, though his movements were careful. Adrenaline was fading, letting him feel every bruise, every impact.
"Come on. Medical examination. Now."
She didn't wait for argument. Her team flanked him, providing support as they escorted him toward arena exit.
Cleanup crew was already assembling at arena entrance, staring at devastation. Dead insects everywhere. Massive centipede corpses draped across surfaces. Crystalline formations scattered throughout. Water still draining. Sand churned into mud.
One of them looked at another. "This is going to take hours."
"Call in full team. And get heavy equipment."
"What about next match?"
"Postponed. No way we're clearing this by 4 PM."
Throughout the arena, conversation buzzed about what they'd witnessed.
Jamal and Haurang remained in commentary booth, reviewing footage.
"Fifteen years doing this," Jamal said quietly. "That was one of the most adaptable performances I've ever seen. Walker went full speedster and got eliminated. Plague deployed his entire arsenal and got knocked out cold. And King turned water into a weapon."
"Tier assessment needs revision," Haurang said, making notes. "Based on this performance, solidly tier 4. Possibly higher"
In the hidden observation room, Charlotte made final notes while Hannah sat back, fingers having resumed their irregular tapping.
"What did you think, young miss?" Charlotte asked.
"More versatile than expected. More controlled. More..." Hannah paused. "More interesting."
In Mike Ross's private viewing area, the executive sat back with that wide smile.
He'd watched the entire fight with rapt attention. But one moment stood out above all others.
That final confrontation. When King had held Plague's face. When his fingers had tightened. When his fist had pulled back.
The hesitation.
'He wanted to kill him,' Mike thought, smile widening. 'Considered it seriously. Fingers tightened—I saw it. Could've pushed through skull. Could've executed him right there.'
But he'd pulled back. Changed the target. Knocked Plague unconscious instead.
'Interesting. Very interesting. Not ruthless enough to kill publicly. Has limits. Restraint. Moral lines he won't cross—at least not where people can see.'
Mike made notes on his tablet. King's file updated with new observations.
'He's more controlled than I thought. More disciplined. But that hesitation tells me everything. He has the capacity for killing. Just needs the right circumstances. The right motivation. The right... pressure.'
The smile never left his face.
"Fascinating," he muttered. "Absolutely fascinating."
—
Medical Area - 6:45 PM
Lucius sat on examination table while Dr. Lois conducted her assessment.
"Multiple contusions across ribs," she said, hands carefully palpating his torso. "Nothing broken, but you're going to be bruised for days. That beetle impact was serious."
"Felt serious."
"You also fought in water for extended period with minimal swimming capability." Her tone carried professional disapproval. "In future, perhaps learn to swim before entering environments with large bodies of water."
"Noted."
She examined his left arm next—crystalline prosthetic fully exposed, geometric formations catching light. Where bandages had come off during fight, integration with flesh was visible.
"No damage to prosthetic itself. Crystallization ability held up well under combat stress." She made notes on tablet. "Though I'm documenting significant energy expenditure. Creating that platform must have been exhausting."
It hadn't been. Hydrokinesis made controlling water effortless. But crystallization lie required him to appear fatigued.
"Very," Lucius agreed.
Dr. Lois finished examination, stepping back. "You're cleared. No serious injuries. Rest for remainder of today and tomorrow morning. Light activity only. Your ribs need time to heal."
"Understood."
"And King?" She looked at him directly. "That was impressive. Genuinely impressive. But be careful. You've made yourself very visible now. Very interesting to people who collect interesting things."
"I know."
She nodded once, then left to check on other patients.
Lucius sat alone in examination room for a moment, processing.
The fight had revealed more than he'd wanted. Crystallization ability's versatility was now documented—creating platforms, defensive structures, offensive applications. His adaptive learning was on record.
Mike Ross would be watching more closely now. Probably others.
But the alternative—losing to Plague or drowning—would've been worse.
He stood carefully, ribs protesting, and began dressing in clean clothes medical had provided.
The tournament was narrowing. Only 3 fighters remained.
Tomorrow would be Odd versus Adam Mavrick. A brutal match that Odd had no realistic chance of winning.
But that was tomorrow's problem.
He left medical area, moving carefully through corridors. Guards nodded as he passed—respect mixed with wariness now.
But rather than heading to his room to rest he went straight to the training area.
—
TO BE CONTINUED