Time stood still as we froze before what was possibly the worst opponent. Anyone born before the last five years would recognise the patterns on his body – a powerful Lanken.
He was fairly pale for someone as well-built as he was. He had red rings tattooed all over his body and cat-like eyes. There were no visible claws on his hands, but I was certain he possessed them. But the scariest thing was possibly the fiery ring above his head.
Eric tried to move, but Ara held out his hand. It was too risky to rush into battle. The first thing was to secure a safe exit. Even I knew that much.
The Lanken's eyes scanned the area just as we did. And for some reason, his eyes widened with excitement when we locked eyes.
"Jayden?" he said.
Before we could recover from my bewilderment, the Lanken had closed the distance between us in a heartbeat. Even more surprisingly, I reacted. It was the sharpest my instincts and reflexes had ever been. For the first time, I could die.
I took a heavy step back to put distance between us, but he reacted just as quickly and grabbed my arm. He wore a fiendish smile that almost extended past his face.
"What are you doing with these humans, Jayden? I thought the Masters of Mischief were on our side?" he asked.
I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. His grip was too strong for me to break free.
The host?
The key?
Masters of Mischief?
What was this beast going on about?
Was the war perhaps less straightforward than I had known it to be?
But then he hit me. For the first time, he is more interested in me than the others, despite still holding on to Sayla.
"Run! Get as far away from here as possible!" I beckoned.
But then the Lanken's gaze turned to Eric. "You stay. The other two can go," he said.
Ara and Anak turned their gaze to me. Even without looking at them, I knew one thing for certain – they had no intentions of leaving us behind.
'Fine. You can all die together," the Lanken said.
Eric lunged first, unleashing a flurry of blows, each one thrown with the kind of desperate strength that came from knowing we were outmatched. But the Lanken slipped around every strike as if Eric were moving in slow motion. Sometimes he even nudged or pulled me into Eric's path, using my body as a shield just to taunt him. I twisted hard, trying to break free of his grip, but his hold didn't budge; it was like being caught in steel wrapped in skin.
Anak and Ara hovered at his back, muscles coiled, ready to pounce the moment a gap appeared. But none came. Every shift, every breath of his seemed deliberate, closing off angles before they even formed. All they could do was circle, waiting for the tiniest mistake — one he didn't look inclined to make.
Eric charged again, refusing to let despair slow him. His fists blurred as he threw combinations I'd seen shatter training dummies and stagger real opponents. But the Lanken seemed to drift between the blows, turning each strike into nothing more than displaced air. His movements weren't rushed or frantic—just impossibly precise. It was like he had already watched the entire fight play out and was simply stepping into the spaces where we never touched him.
He yanked me sideways again, angling my body so Eric almost collided with me. Eric stopped himself at the last second, teeth clenched in frustration. The Lanken let out a soft, mocking breath—not quite a laugh, but close enough to feel like a slap.
I twisted my wrist, dropping my weight, trying to slip free.
Nothing.
His grip didn't tighten, didn't loosen—just held, immovable, as if my efforts were less than meaningless.
Anak darted to his left, Ara to his right. They closed in fast, one aiming high, the other low, trying to split his attention. The Lanken didn't even turn to look at them. With a subtle shift of his stance, he pivoted behind me, using me as the barrier that blocked both their strikes. Anak skidded backwards to avoid hitting me; Ara pulled her kick mid-air and stumbled. The Lanken's smile widened just slightly—enough to show he was enjoying this.
"Keep moving!" Ara barked, recovering her footing. But even she sounded unsure, breath thin with panic she rarely showed.
Eric regrouped and charged again. Anak mirrored him. Ara circled for an opening that never came. Their attacks came from three different angles: punches, sweeps, and feints meant to distract. The Lanken guided me into their way with gentle, mocking nudges that ruined every attack. It was humiliating, all of them powerful in their own right, reduced to shadows chasing something far faster and far smarter.
"He's playing with us," Anak muttered, voice tight.
I knew she was right. And if he was playing, then once he got bored…
No. I couldn't let it go that far.
He jerked me forward abruptly, forcing Eric to leap aside to avoid slamming into me. My shoulder burned, and frustration twisted inside my gut. Being used like a shield wasn't just terrifying—it was infuriating.
Then it struck me.
He kept using my body because he didn't want to let go of my arm.
That meant his control depended on my being predictable.
So I stopped being predictable.
As he pulled me toward him again, expecting me to stumble, I moved the opposite way—fast. I let my legs go loose, dropped suddenly, and spun my weight around his wrist the way one might spin around a pole. His eyes flickered—only for a heartbeat, but that heartbeat was enough. My movement wrapped his arm across his chest, tangling his balance. He had to shift his weight to compensate or risk being dragged down with me.
"Now!" I yelled.
All three of them sprang at once.
For the first time, the Lanken couldn't drag me into their path. My twist had locked his arm in an awkward angle, and for a split second—just a split second—he was held in place.
His expression changed. Gone was the lazy amusement. For the first time, he looked… surprised.
To avoid the incoming blows, he had only one option.
He released me. But he held fast onto Sayla.
His hand slipped from my wrist, the grip breaking cleanly as he twisted free, leaping back onto the tree with unnatural speed. Ara's strike sliced through the air where he had been a moment before. Anak's fist hit nothing but wind. Eric's kick barely missed the trailing edge of the fiery ring above the Lanken's head.
But I had forced him to let go.
I scrambled to my feet, breathing hard. "He's not untouchable," I said, more to convince myself than anyone else.
The Lanken straightened, eyes narrowing.
The real fight had finally begun.