In the fighters' waiting room, Xain leaned forward with his arms crossed. "Looks like Even has the advantage so far," he remarked. Mae nodded in agreement. "Mmm. Zeva looked like she was winning once she got close, but that blood magic of his just turns every one of her attacks into more weapons for himself." Calvinel hummed thoughtfully before adding, "Looks like Zeva has a plan going through her head."
Back in the arena, Even stomped his foot, and six thick stone pillars erupted from the ground around Zeva, slamming inward to crush her. Zeva reacted in an instant, vaulting high into the air as the stone columns collided beneath her. Even smirked—exactly what he had wanted—as he snapped his rifle up and fired.
tink
Despite hanging in midair, Zeva twisted just enough, her blade flashing as it split the bullet clean. She hit the ground in a crouch, then burst forward in a straight line toward the base of the platform.
Even reacted quickly, his footwork controlling the arena as slabs of rock rose to block her path. She ducked low, sliding under the first wall before slicing upward with a clean stroke that split the second barrier apart. Spikes erupted from the floor to impale her, but she vaulted lightly off the tip of one, twisting in the air to avoid the next. A pit yawned open at her feet, but she pivoted mid-stride, heel skidding against the stone as she redirected her dash to the side, avoiding the sudden drop before cutting through another jagged wall with a single swift swing.
Her movements blurred together into a flow of seamless speed, each dodge and cut leading into the next without pause. Quincy's voice cracked with amazement as she tried to follow. "Wow! Zeva's agility is unparalleled!" Even she struggled to track Zeva's motions as the swordswoman weaved through obstacle after obstacle, advancing no matter how the ground itself rose against her.
*Third stage enhancements, huh?* Even realized, watching her speed blur beyond normal human limits.
Zeva reached the base of the platform again, her sword flashing in her grip. Instead of climbing the way she had before, she surged past it, spun sharply on her heel, and used the gathered momentum to deliver a sweeping horizontal cut. Steel bit into stone. The sound split the arena as her blade cleaved clean through the nearly ten-foot-thick base of the platform in one decisive strike.
The entire structure shuddered before collapsing, stone crashing down in a plume of dust and debris. Even clicked his tongue as the ground dropped beneath him, his body slamming against the arena floor fifteen feet below. He hit his back hard, the air rushing from his lungs.
He didn't get to rest. Zeva was already there. Her sword came down like a guillotine, stabbing for his stomach. He rolled desperately, the blade plunging into the ground where he had just been. She gave him no chance to recover.
The moment his feet touched solid ground again, her assault began. Her body moved with blinding speed, every strike a piece of the Blossom family style, flowing seamlessly from one cut to the next. The first slash carved across his ribs, the second split his thigh, the third tore a long gash across his arm. He tried to parry with his blood blade, but each block left him open for another strike.
She stepped in, blade twisting like a dancer's ribbon, cutting at angles impossible to predict. A horizontal cut tore across his chest, a vertical slash raked down his shoulder, a diagonal pierced through his guard. Blood sprayed with every blow, staining the floor, her sword always moving, never lingering.
Then came the finishing thrust. Zeva pivoted low, her stance compact, and drove her blade straight into his side. The steel punched deep into his liver, the impact wrenching a guttural cry from Even's throat as the pain shot through him like fire.
He staggered, body convulsing before he dropped to his knees. Blood spilled from his mouth as he vomited violently, the sword tearing free with a wet sound. His vision swam, his breaths ragged. "Oh, I get it," he rasped, voice hoarse but defiant, "you think just making me experience pain is going to make me stop concentrating on my magic…" His hand trembled, but the mark on its back began to glow again, steady and bright. He glared up at her through the haze of agony. "You're dead wrong!"
Even's hands shot up and clamped down on Zeva's wrists, locking her in place. At the same time, his blood magic surged—the blade she had driven into him was suddenly swallowed, trapped inside a mass of coagulated blood that bound the steel where it pierced. Behind her, the pools and splatters of his spilled blood rippled, then drew together like streams feeding a river. In seconds, a crimson tide rose up at her back, sharpening into a fan of dagger-like spikes.
With a sharp gesture, they fired forward, a storm of blood-forged blades meant to tear through her spine. Even's lips curved into a strained grin, certain of his victory—until his grin faltered. Zeva's eyes met his. There was no fear. No panic. Not even surprise. Only cold, steady concentration.
The sound hit first—not the sound of flesh being pierced, but the jarring crack of impact. Every blood dagger that struck her back shattered into crimson fragments, as if colliding with a wall of unbreakable iron. The fragments splattered uselessly to the ground around her feet.
Even froze, disbelief twisting his expression. "What? That's not possible… your armor can't be that strong," he muttered, the confidence draining from his voice.
Zeva didn't answer. Instead, her left hand shifted. She tore it free from his grip with effortless force. His gaze dropped instinctively, and his eyes widened.
Starting from the center of her palm, her skin rippled as it turned sleek, metallic, transforming into a weaponized sheen of steel-like flesh.
"Fifth stage enhancements?" he choked out, the words tumbling from his throat. "W-why didn't you use that before?"
Zeva gave the smallest shrug, her voice flat. "I don't have as much mana as you."
Then her arm snapped forward, her transformed hand narrowing into a blade-like thrust. It drove clean through his torso just below the sternum, the metallic edge erupting from his back in a spray of blood.
The second exchange was over.