The arena fell silent as Vidya stepped forward.
Unlike her sister Tara, she showed no arrogance, no hunger for theatrics. Her face was calm, almost emotionless, as if this fight was nothing more than a task to be completed.
She spoke only once.
"State your teaching."
Forge adjusted his glasses. He didn't rush to answer. He studied her posture, her breathing, the way her eyes never left him.
"My teaching allows me to create objects using spiritual energy," he said evenly. "With limitations."
Vidya nodded. No comment. No mockery.
The bell rang.
The Trial by Combat began.
Vidya pulled a lighter from her pocket and flicked it open. A tiny flame appeared—ordinary, harmless-looking. Then her spiritual energy surged.
The flame split in two, climbing into her palms as her aura burst outward. The heat intensified instantly. The fire grew brighter, whiter, sharper—no longer natural.
The flames stretched, twisted, and reshaped themselves into chains.
Forge felt the heat hit his skin even from several meters away.
One touch, he thought, and I'm finished.
He needed information.
Forge formed a fire-resistant glove—something he had tested and handled countless times—and hurled it at her. The chain sliced through it effortlessly, the glove disintegrating mid-air.
Forge's eyes sharpened.
Not ordinary fire. Much hotter. Spiritual reinforcement.
He removed his coat. Then his shoes.
His breathing slowed.
Forge wasn't the strongest among the Ten Protectors. He wasn't the fastest either—Ram held that title. But Forge was adaptable. Flexible. And most importantly, patient.
Vidya attacked.
The chains whipped toward him, tearing through stone as if it were paper. Forge dodged—barely. The second strike came faster. The third nearly clipped his shoulder.
He didn't counterattack.
He watched.
He noticed that with each swing, the chains grew slightly shorter.
Slightly dimmer.
After nearly a minute of relentless assault, the chains vanished.
Forge did not move.
Too clean, he thought. Too obvious.
He created a spear and threw it.
Before it could reach her, it disintegrated into glowing fragments.
Vidya stood unharmed, surrounded by distorted air. She had raised the temperature around her body so high that nothing solid could reach her.
An absolute defense.
The chains returned.
Forge fired a gun. Vidya rotated the chains rapidly, blocking the bullets while sparks and flames scattered across the arena floor. The battlefield turned hostile—burning debris everywhere.
Dodging became harder.
Vidya switched between offense and defense flawlessly.
Forge retreated, counting silently.
Body-based teachings… direct contact… cooldown limits…
When the chains shortened again, Forge saw his chance.
He lunged forward and grabbed them.
Pain exploded through his arm.
His skin blistered instantly. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. His scream echoed through the arena.
But he didn't let go.
With everything he had, Forge pulled.
Vidya was slammed into the stone floor.
She recovered in less than a second—too fast. Her defense reactivated mid-air. Forge was forced back, blood dripping from his arm.
He sprayed the burns. Wrapped them tight.
His arm shook violently.
But he was smiling.
While firing tungsten bullets earlier, he had noticed something critical.
The debris behind Vidya hadn't disintegrated.
Her shield only existed where she was looking.
Forge pressed a button.
Two concealed tungsten arrows fired from behind her.
They pierced her body.
Vidya gasped as her defense collapsed.
Forge didn't hesitate.
He surged forward and, in one clean, merciless motion, severed her head.
The flames vanished.
Silence followed.
Forge staggered, then collapsed to one knee, his burned arm trembling uncontrollably.
Pain flooded in.
But the battle was over.
Forge had won.