The arena grew tense after Vayu's merciless display. The silence was heavy, only a few whispered.
The crowd kept murmuring as Sekhar and Vaibhav stepped into the arena, both gripping identical pairs of daggers, they even had same build, same height this match was going to be true test of skills and power.
The elder gave signal as he lifted his hand upward and they both exploded forward. Steel clashed in rapid successive bursts. Every strike Sekhar made, Vaibhav matched, every slash Vaibhav attempted, Sekhar mirrored. Their blades rang harsh, bodies weaving in and out.
The crowd leaned forward, eyes darting left and right, gasps and cheers erupting with each close call.
Vaibhav drove in with a double slash, Sekhar deflected one dagger outward, the other upward, sparks flying as he twisted his wrist to slash Vaibhav's arm but Vaibhav spun away, countering with a slicing cut across Sekhar's ribs. Blood welled, but Sekhar didn't flinch.
"Is that your best" Sekhar spat, his teeth gritted, blood dripping down his side.
"Just checking the sharpness" Vaibhav replied.
Vaibhav pressed, sensing an opening, his movements sharp. He lunged, dagger slashing at Sekhar's throat. The crowd gasped but Sekhar caught his wrist mid-air, his dagger arm locked tight against Vaibhav's. With his other blade, he carved down, slicing across Vaibhav's thigh. Vaibhav staggered back as the pain flared up and blood came out.
"Nice counterattack" Vaibhav said
"Just checking the sharpness" he looked towards his dagger and continued "it seems fine " Sekhar replied.
Vaibhav didn't retreat. He stepped in, chest against chest, turning the fight brutal. Both men snarled as their daggers scraped, stabbing, twisting inches apart. Sekhar slashed across Vaibhav's shoulder, Vaibhav rammed his forehead into Sekhar's nose, breaking it with a crack. Blood poured, as Sekhar screamed, but he still fought, stabbing wildly.
The two collapsed in the dirt. The crowd roared, half cheering for Sekhar, half cheering for Vaibhav, every movement fueled by raw will both of them got up again no more weapons in their hands
The arena had grown tense as both fighters were battered and bloodied. The crowd held its breath. No more daggers man to man, fist to fist.
They circled each other like wolves before Vaibhav could make a move, Sekhar lunged first, his left fist cracking against Vaibhav's jaw. He followed with a vicious right swing, but Vaibhav raised his elbow just in time, the impact echoing with a dull thud. Without pause, Vaibhav twisted his torso and sent his own elbow flying. Sekhar caught it on his forearm, blocking hard, only for Vaibhav to roll his body 180 degree and drive another elbow in with the opposite arm.
Blocked again Sekhar's defense was tight but Vaibhav didn't stop. He spun back with full force snapping his back into its original position and punching Sekhar with full momentum, his right punch smashing into Sekhar's face. Blood sprayed as Sekhar stumbled back, dazed, but Vaibhav was already on him. He slammed a punch into Sekhar's ribs, right where his dagger had pierced earlier.
Sekhar groaned, trying to shield his ribs. That only opened his face, and Vaibhav's knuckles crashed into his cheekbone. Sekhar switched, bringing his guard high to protect his face, but Vaibhav immediately drove his fist back into the ribs, making him cough out blood. Again—face, ribs, ribs, face—the rhythm of brutality continued breaking him down piece by piece.
The crowd winced at every strike, the sharp smack of fists and yepls filled the arena. Sekhar staggered, knees buckling, his arms too slow now to guard everything. Vaibhav's last punch landed deep in the ribs, forcing a cry of pain from him.
Finally, battered and breathless, Sekhar raised a trembling hand, voice breaking:
"I… surrender."
The elder's voice rang out, declaring Vaibhav the victor. The arena erupted in mixed gasps and cheers.
When the dust finally settled the crowd got silent eager to hear the next announcement, now only five remained Aspen, Mei, Vijay, Vayu, and Vaibhav. But none of them had come out unscathed. Cuts, bruises, and fractured .
The elders gathered in a private corner, their voices low but their faces grim. After a long discussion, the fifth elder stood and raised his hand.
"The semifinals will not be held tomorrow, as you are all injured, and fighting now would only cripple you further so you will have seven days to heal… and to prepare, Then the semi-final battles will begin."
A murmur spread through the onlookers. Some cheered while others nodded. But the competitors, exhausted and broken, accepted the verdict with relief. One by one, they moved out of the arena.
When Vayu reached home, his mother rushed to him. The moment her eyes fell on his bloodied tunic and wound on is thigh, her hands trembled. She dressed his wound carefully, wiping away the dried blood with a gentleness that stung him more than the pain. Tears welled in her eyes, and she whispered, "Vayu… drop out from this competition, I don't want you to get hurt."
Vayu placed his hand over hers, steady and firm. "Trust me, Maa I will be fine, just… be patient" His voice was calm, but there was a fire in his gaze .
That night, after a silent dinner, Vayu withdrew to his room. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, but his mind was far from still. Every fight replayed before his eyes the brutal counter attacks made by Aspen, the precision of Mei, the unyielding grit of Vaibhav, Ryan's cunning tricks, and Rajat's ferocity. He analyzed every blow, every mistake, every opening.
Slowly, his breathing steadied. He closed his eyes, but instead of sleep, he fought battles in his mind. He saw himself dodging, striking, countering. He imagined the weight of spears against his daggers, the speed of a knife aimed for his ribs, the crushing power of an axe coming down on his guard. He adjusted, corrected, perfected.
This was his true training mental, relentless, unforgiving. By the time he finally drifted into a shallow sleep, Vayu had already fought many battles inside his head.