Grusha's gaze stayed calmly fixed on the area swallowed by Blizzard.
But Jason's response went beyond his expectations.
The moment the Blizzard rushed in, Jason's thoughts raced.
"Shield Dust! Oh crap, I forgot about that!"
He smacked his metaphorical forehead.
He might be here "for revenge," but he'd clean forgotten how disgusting Frosmoth's Ability was.
Bitter Blade was physical, so it didn't care about Shield Dust. Problem was—he couldn't get in range.
Blizzard's coverage was too big.
If he charged straight, he'd be swept up halfway there.
"I can't tank this. If I get slowed or frozen, the rest of the match is over."
"This guy's tactics are filthy."
"If you won't let me come to you—"
Purple light flashed in his eyes.
"Then I'll open my own path!"
Half a second before Blizzard engulfed him—
"Phantom Force!"
The flaming Ceruledge didn't retreat and didn't brace. His body suddenly turned intangible, leaving only a faint afterimage behind. Then he—and armor, and blades—vanished from this plane altogether.
He slipped into the spirit world.
Boom!
Blizzard roared through, freezing solid the spot he'd just stood on. Thick ice plated the rock, frost creeping to the very edge of the field.
But nothing was there.
The attack whiffed.
"What?"
Grusha's pupils pinched.
"Phantom Force? He used that to dodge?"
"He disappeared!" Ghast shouted from the back. "Where'd Jason go?"
Blizzard faded. The summit fell silent again, save for Tailwind's hum.
Frosmoth hovered in midair, wary. Its Trainer gave no follow-up.
For the first time, Grusha's face turned serious.
He'd misplayed this turn.
He hadn't expected Jason's Ceruledge to have Phantom Force—a move that wasn't just an attack, but perfect evasion and reposition in one.
"This is trouble," he thought.
The opponent was gone. He didn't know where Jason would reappear—from behind Frosmoth? Above? Or… beneath?
"I can't wait for him to move."
His decision was instant.
"Frosmoth—Bug Buzz!"
A wide-range, no-discrimination hit. Frosmoth's wings vibrated, releasing a piercing, high-pitched cry.
Vmm!
Transparent sound waves rippled out from its body in all directions. No matter which angle Ceruledge returned from, he'd get tagged.
Fast and accurate call.
But Jason was faster.
Just as Bug Buzz reached its full radius, a rough voice cut in from Frosmoth's left flank.
"You're too late."
Grusha snapped his head around.
At some point, Jason had already emerged in midair to Frosmoth's left, perfectly outside the main path of the sound waves.
Phantom Force couldn't be predicted. Grusha had gambled with Bug Buzz—he'd lost.
"Now!"
Jason didn't pause for a heartbeat upon reappearing. He raised his right-hand blade. The flame on it snuffed out—replaced by a cold, violet-black energy.
"Shadow Claw!"
His body carved a dark line through the air, streaking straight for Frosmoth. The moth was still locked in Bug Buzz's casting lag.
Its trainer had no time to call anything else.
Swish!
The shadowy claw slashed hard into its white body.
"Sss!"
Frosmoth cried in pain. Ghost damage bit deep enough.
"Got it!" Ghast cheered.
But Jason wasn't done. Shadow Claw was just the gap opener.
By the time it landed, he was point-blank—a Ceruledge's absolute kill zone.
"You think that's all?"
His voice dropped. Both hands raised—the right that had just swung and the left still idle—crossing twin blades at Frosmoth's neck.
"Repent for Liko—"
"Bitter Blade!"
This time, both swords flared at once.
Boom!
Four-times effectiveness.
Fire vs. Ice. Fire vs. Bug.
Zero distance.
Physical, ignoring Shield Dust entirely.
Frosmoth didn't even have a chance to scream. Red flames swallowed it in an instant. The burst was so intense that a thin sheen of snow melted off the mountaintop.
When the fire died, Frosmoth's charred body fell limply to the ground—out cold.
Round one: Jason, win.
Silently, Grusha recalled Frosmoth. He glanced at Jason.
"Beautiful sequence," he said. "Phantom Force to dodge, Shadow Claw to close, Bitter Blade to finish."
"But." He tugged his scarf back up.
"Tailwind… is already up."
Jason flicked embers off his blades. He could feel it—the wind over there had sharpened.
That first sacrifice hadn't been meaningless.
"You're very good at dismantling tactics," Grusha said, voice level. "But tactics alone aren't enough."
He unhooked another ball.
"When faced with pure power—how far can your tricks take you?"
He threw.
"Beartic. Go."
With a dull thump, an enormous white bear hit the snow. It rose to its feet—nearly twice Jason's height—thick fur and ice crusting its body; frosty breath crystallizing in the air.
"Roooaaar!"
It beat its chest, a thunderous sound rolling across the mountain.
Two effects triggered at once.
First, Tailwind—those streams circling the field surged into Beartic. The hulking bear's movements suddenly sharpened.
Second, the summit's permanent snow triggered its Ability: Snow Cloak. In the flurries, its outline wavered—now solid, now blurred—hard to lock on.
"Whoa, huge!" Ghast squealed from the back. "Jason, you sure about this? It looks like it could flatten you with one punch!"
Iron Valiant's optics flickered. "Snow Cloak Ability. Accuracy reduced by twenty percent. Master, avoid direct engagement—use Ghost abilities to kite."
"Kite my ass," Jason thought.
He fixed his gaze on the bear. "Good grief. Tailwind to fix the speed, Snow Cloak for dodge. Fast, tanky, and hard to hit—great."
He tightened his grip on the blades.
"But you're still Ice. If I land a hit, it's over."
Grusha gave him no time to adjust.
"Beartic—Icicle Crash!"
The giant bear exploded into motion with shocking speed for its size. It clawed the ground and launched itself into the air. At its apex, cold burst around it—spawning massive icicles above its head.
Boom!
It dropped, bringing the pillars down toward Jason in a crushing, area-wide slam.
"Good!"
Jason didn't dodge. He knew Fire resists Ice, and he wanted to test its power himself.
He spread his stance, set his balance, crossed both flaming swords over his head.
Clang!
Crack. Crack. Crack.
The ice spears slammed into the blades. The force buckled his knees; shards and steam blasted outward. The icicles shattered—but their raw kinetic energy drilled through.
Snow beneath his feet compressed flat; even the rock below creaked. He skidded backward, shoved several steps.
"Heavy."
His arms tingled. This bear hit harder than he'd expected.
Grusha didn't pause.
"Aqua Jet."
Just as Jason was shedding Crash's force and hadn't caught his breath, Beartic lit up blue, body turning into a high-speed water bullet.
"Damn!"
He'd just steadied himself—no time to move.
Thud!
Aqua Jet smashed into his chestplate, sending him flying. He rolled twice in the snow before sliding to a stop.
"Jason!" Ghast screamed.
He pushed up to one knee, a water impact mark etched into his armor.
"Cough—"
He felt it—the impact had gone through the shell.
"I got careless," he thought, standing slowly. His internal alarm blared as he stared at the bear's Snow Cloak silhouette.
"Priority move. Aqua Jet."
"This thing's not just a meat shield. It's fast, evasive, hits hard, and has priority."
His mind spun. "Shadow Claw does peanuts to this thing. I need Fire."
"No more dragging this out. If I let Snow Cloak stall, I'm going to eat something nasty."
Decision made.
Burn it down fast.
No more dancing, no more blocking. He cranked the flames on both blades—a roaring crimson blaze rolled along their edges.
"Straight charge!"
Jason moved.
He lunged right at the blurred mass of Beartic.
"Icicle Crash," Grusha answered, cold and clinical.
The bear reared—this time without jumping. Cold pooled into both paws, forming two huge ice claws. They swung down for Ceruledge.
If that landed, his armor would be shredded.
"Now!"
Purple glinted in Jason's eyes. He didn't slow. At the last instant, he dropped low—an extreme low slide—body skimming the frozen ground under Beartic's swinging claws. The icy blades whooshed just over his head.
He slipped into Beartic's guard.
The belly—thick white fur and soft flesh—was fully exposed.
"It's over," he said under the bear's chest.
"Bitter Blade!"
Still sliding, he drove both swords up in a brutal, rising thrust into its abdomen.
"ROOAAR!"
Beartic roared in agony. The fire didn't burn outside—it flooded inside. Crimson energy detonated within.
Boom!
Light blasted through its back; the bear locked up, then toppled with a crash.
The fight ended.
Jason yanked his blades free.
"Haa… haa…"
He stood there, breathing a little harder. Then—
Crk.
He heard it. A thin, brittle sound. Looking down, he saw a thin layer of frost clinging to his armor.
The contact kill had doused him in Beartic's dying cold.
"Trouble…"
He felt his movements sluggish by just a hair.
Expression unchanged, Grusha recalled Beartic. He glanced at the frost on Jason, then at the still-humming Tailwind.
No pause—he threw his third ball.
"Weavile."
Speed incarnate. The ball popped open and a black streak hit the ground—a Weavile.
Dark/Ice.
Small but coiled with muscle, red head crest whipping in the wind, claws extended and gleaming like knives.
The Tailwind currents peaked as Weavile landed—one last turn.
Weavile's speed spiked to terrifying—its body blurring into a black afterimage.
"Jason! Watch out!" Ghast cried.
Night Slash.
Shing!
Weavile vanished.
Jason's pupils contracted.
"So fast."
He didn't even have time to think—just felt a killing chill from his right.
Clang!
Trusting his instincts, he swept his right-hand blade out to the side.
Metal screamed as claw met sword; sparks flew, and Weavile's shape reappeared for a heartbeat, its black-charged talons grinding against the flaming edge.
~~~
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