Three hours.
That's how long the arena had been shaking, the skies above churning with elemental aftershocks and the ground splintered with the scars of two warriors who refused to fall. Cassian Veyne was still standing—or rather, still forcing himself to stand. His body trembled, sweat pouring down his temples, muscles screaming with every breath. He had never pushed himself this far, never fought this long, never taken so many lethal hits in such a short time.
Yet every blow Aeron Vale landed had been met with defiance.
The crowd had long since stopped cheering. Now, they were simply watching—silent, stunned. Cassian's regeneration had worked like a miracle, healing wounds even as they formed. Gashes across his ribs sealed before blood could fall. Cracked bones popped back into place mid-motion. But something was starting to shift. The speed of the regeneration wasn't what it was an hour ago. His movements—once swift and calculated—were losing their sharpness.
Cassian's chest rose and fell in uneven bursts. He blinked hard, shaking the haze from his mind. "Come on," he muttered, almost pleading with himself. "Not now…"
Aeron didn't say a word. He had seen it. The tiny drop in Cassian's speed. The delay in his teleportation. The moments where his limbs refused to follow the rhythm his mind commanded. His foresight gave him more than just the ability to predict moves—it let him read the moment the tide began to turn.
And it just had.
Cassian roared and rushed forward, lightning crackling around him, flames igniting from his palms, earth erupting behind his steps like cannon fire. But Aeron slipped past it all like smoke, one hand grabbing Cassian's arm, twisting, slamming him into the ground with a devastating thud that echoed across the stadium.
Cassian gasped, rolled, vanished—then reappeared behind Aeron mid-air, fist glowing with copied strength.
But Aeron met it with a straight knee to his gut.
The crowd winced as Cassian flew backward, skidding across the shattered ground, blood finally dripping from his mouth. He didn't heal immediately this time. Two seconds passed. Then four. The wound did close—but slower. His regeneration was faltering.
"His body's burning out," Kael muttered.
"He's using too many powers at once," Mira added. "Invisibility, lightning, duplication, teleportation, strength, fire, earth… his system isn't built to handle all that."
Kenneth's jaw clenched. "And every time he healed… he pushed that limit further."
Aeron walked toward Cassian, his steps silent. No rage. No pride. Just unrelenting calm.
"You're strong," Aeron said softly. "But you never learned to last."
Cassian spat out blood and forced himself to stand again. His arms hung low. Shoulders sagged. His entire body trembled—not out of fear, but exhaustion. His abilities flickered around him like unstable energy. The glow of fire. The crackle of lightning. The distortion of invisibility. Everything was dimmer now, like a fire struggling to stay lit in a storm.
He swung again.
Aeron ducked and countered with a jab that snapped Cassian's head back, then a hook to the ribs that made something crack. Cassian didn't even try to regenerate immediately. He fell to one knee.
Then Aeron slammed a fist down on his back, and Cassian collapsed completely.
"Stop it…" Elara whispered.
"Come on, Cass…" Zarek muttered, leaning forward with gritted teeth.
Cassian tried again. He coughed, rolled over, and sat up, but his arms refused to rise. The glow in his eyes faded. His breathing was shallow. Aeron stood above him now, the final blow ready—but he didn't strike.
He simply looked at him.
"You pushed yourself too far," he said. "And it wasn't enough."
Cassian's fingers twitched, trying to summon fire. Nothing came.
Then Master Rhelgar's voice boomed, not with excitement, but with finality.
"The winner of the match… Aeron Vale."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then the crowd erupted—some in awe, some in shock, others cheering simply because they had to release the tension in their chests. But it wasn't a loud, triumphant cheer. It was a broken applause. Tired. Uncertain.
Aeron stepped back and let the medics rush in. Cassian didn't resist. He couldn't. His body was done.
As they lifted him onto a stretcher, Cassian turned his head toward Aeron, eyes barely open. "You… weren't stronger," he whispered hoarsely. "You just… didn't break…"
Aeron looked down at him, unreadable. "Sometimes… that's all it takes."
Kael stood slowly, his arms crossed. "That was brutal."
"But brilliant," Mira added softly. "Cassian held his own against someone with foresight. That's insane."
"He didn't lose because he was weak," Zarek said. "He just burned too bright… and too fast."
Kenneth said nothing, watching as Cassian was carried away. There was a faint trace of something in his eyes—respect, maybe. Or pity.
Or something else entirely.
Aeron turned away from the arena as if the fight had never happened, walking calmly back toward the staging area. His coat was torn. His knuckles bloody. But his face? Calm. Not a single expression of victory.
He had won.
But not because he was better.
Only because he lasted longer.
And that truth echoed louder than the applause ever could.