"Paso de jaguar"—the words tore from Jay Baker's lips, ragged, almost like a whisper the wind tried to steal… but could not. The forest seemed to hear them. And answer.
Jay's black boots, caked with dirt, dried blood, and ash, began to emit a faint crimson glow. It was not a violent flame nor a dramatic burst. It was a contained fire, disciplined, like an ancient heartbeat awakening beneath the skin. From the soles of his feet, the heat surged upward in a fleeting thread to his ankles, wrapping them as though a feline spirit had placed its burning claws there.
Jay, gasping, clenched his teeth as he forced himself to rise. Every muscle screamed. Every rib felt ready to snap. His black cape hung from one side, torn to shreds. Blood slid from his forehead down his cheek, mixing with dirt. Even the air he exhaled trembled, as if his body doubted whether it should keep going.
"You… made me use my trump card so soon," Jay rasped, one hand braced on his knee to keep from collapsing. His voice was hoarse, shredded by pain—but within it flickered a spark. A spark that had not been there before.
The malignant spirit watched without moving. Its white eyes—empty beacons devoid of emotion—blinked once. Perhaps in surprise. Or perhaps in mockery. Impossible to tell. Its shadowed body rippled like dense smoke, reacting to the new aura radiating from Jay.
Jay set one foot forward, the other back. His torso leaned slightly. The ground beneath his boots cracked, as though it knew it was about to be trampled. The air tightened, thinning, colder, charged with electricity. A deep calm descended upon him—the kind only felt by those on the edge of collapse… or awakening.
He breathed deeply. Once. Twice. And then—
Step.
He did not run. He did not advance. He vanished.
To the spirit, Jay ceased to be human. He became a streak, a red blur that burst through the air like a whip of fire. The sound followed a heartbeat later, like torn thunder.
Jay reappeared behind the spirit with an ascending kick that slashed diagonally across its shadowed torso. The impact was clean, sharp. A wave of air shattered nearby leaves, sending them spiraling.
The spirit staggered back—for the first time.
"How… was that?" Jay said, his smile trembling with pain. The words were not arrogant. They were a desperate whisper, seeking proof that his body could still move.
The shadow answered as always: without words. Only a distorted growl rumbling through the roots.
Jay pressed forward again. Each step was a silent roar. The flames on his boots were not destructive—they were propulsive, concentrated bursts that turned his speed into something unnatural, beyond human.
He spun. He leapt. He struck.
A fist wrapped in fire slammed into the spirit's side. Dark smoke burst outward like thick liquid.
Jay continued.
A second strike, this time with his knee. A third, his heel driving into the spirit's chest.
The shadow tried to react, raising an arm to block—but Jay's speed was overwhelming. The Paso de Jaguar, born from the memory of his training with the Fire Jaguar, did not grant him more strength… but it made him move a second before he thought.
Every motion was prediction, feline instinct, pure impulse.
The spirit lashed out with a shadow slash, black as spilled ink. Jay barely tilted his head aside. The attack grazed his cheek, leaving a bleeding line.
"Damn… that hurt…" Jay growled, teeth clenched. "You don't even give me time to breathe…"
He surged to the spirit's flank, driving a fist straight into its abdomen, plunging his arm into the dark mist that served as its body.
The spirit writhed, retreating two steps.
Jay coughed blood—but laughed. Laughed though he had no air. Laughed like someone who had already crossed his limit and now could only sprint along the edge of the abyss.
"What's wrong? Don't like being hit by a human?" he said, dragging the words yet keeping his gaze firm. "Then… get ready… because I've got more…"
He stepped forward. Then another. And the world exploded again in impossible movements.
Kicks from angles no human body should reach. Punches leaving faint red lines in the air. Clashes that made the ground tremble.
The shadow, once relentless and cold, was now entirely on the defensive. It could not predict Jay. It could not block him. The soft flames on his boots were deceptive: they did not burn… but they guided.
They were living compasses. Rhythm. Precision.
Jay felt each strike drain his body. Each kick tore desperate strength from his muscles. Version 2 kept him standing, but the Paso de Jaguar was ripping out reserves he hadn't known he possessed.
And still, he pressed on.
Because in his mind, only one thought remained:
If I stop now… I die.
And so, in silence, Jay continued his savage dance. Blow after blow. Fire against shadow. Life against void.
And the night, a mute witness to the battle, trembled around them.
The battle did not stop. The air, already torn apart by Jay's speed, vibrated like a string on the verge of snapping. Each step left behind a faint trail of fire, a red streak that vanished instantly as though devoured by the spirit's darkness.
The shadow spirit, though marked by blows, showed no intention of yielding. Its figure trembled, fractured, reformed… as if the very shadow were a living organism refusing to die. With every breath Jay took, the spirit exhaled dark mist, a haze that made the ground seem to sink beneath its feet.
Jay kept striking. Punches, kicks, knees, spins, cuts through the air. Each impact made the spirit's shadow ripple like liquid. But it wasn't enough. Jay could wound… but not truly harm.
And still, he pressed forward.
"No… retreat… is not an option…" Jay muttered, his voice cracked, wiping blood that ran from his broken brow.
His speed was superior. But his body was beginning to betray him.
A perfect strike. A kick driven straight into the spirit's torso. The impact warped the entity like smoke battered by wind.
But before Jay's foot touched the ground again, something pierced him from behind.
A shadow lance.
It surged from the void as though it had never existed until that instant. The sharp tip tore through Jay's flank, side to side, leaving a cold line that froze his breath.
Jay clenched his teeth, refusing to scream. He turned immediately, but the lance dissolved into smoke before he could break it.
"Tch… more and more of those…" Jay muttered, leaning forward, clutching the wound with one hand.
The spirit did not answer. It only raised its shadow, birthing another lance. Then another. And another still.
As though a forest of black weapons sprouted around him.
The air grew heavy. The surrounding shadows seemed to move on their own, celebrating the spirit's dominion.
Jay inhaled deeply. His chest burned with each breath. His legs trembled, but did not stop.
"If you think your shadows… will halt my step… you're wrong," Jay said, settling once more into his crouched stance, though his body begged him to stop.
The spirit hurled the first lance. Jay dodged by the width of a breath. Another descended from above. Jay rolled forward, feeling the shadow shear a lock of his hair.
A third appeared where he was about to land. Jay shifted direction at the last instant, bursting leftward.
Speed. Again and again. Speed as his only shield. Speed as his only hope.
But even so, the shadows were too many.
One lance grazed his thigh, slicing flesh. Another tore open his left shoulder. A third, aimed at his chest, was barely deflected by a desperate swipe—burning Jay's hands with its dark energy.
Each dodge left him gasping harder. Each wound dimmed his fire further. His vision began to blur, as though the world itself was turning gray.
Yet amid the chaos, Jay advanced. As if each step were a poem carved by sheer will. As if each breath claimed his right to keep living.
He closed in on the spirit. Closer. Closer. It was like running straight into the heart of a storm.
"Your shadow… won't be my end…" Jay said, as a spark of fire flared from his right fist.
He struck.
The impact unleashed a wave that shattered several nearby lances. The spirit was driven back, screeching like metal being torn apart.
Jay did not stop. Another kick. Another rain of blows. His movements were so fast they left only a red silhouette in the air.
But each strike he landed, he received one in return.
The spirit's shadows wrapped around his skin, clawing, wearing him down. They were blades forged of pure night. Jay felt his strength draining with every second. His body begged to collapse.
But he did not fall.
Not yet.
The spirit conjured five lances at once, all aimed at Jay's heart.
The young man exhaled sharply, spat blood, and stepped forward.
"If I can't break your shadows… then all I can do is advance…" Jay said with a broken smile—one that hurt and burned at the same time.
The battle raged on. Fierce. Cruel. Poetic in its destruction.
And as the darkness tried to devour him, Jay pressed forward with the most fragile… yet most stubborn flame that had ever existed.
The battle no longer felt like a fight. It was cruel, suffocating—like a dance upon the ruins of a world breaking piece by piece beneath their feet. Each clash, each burst of darkness, each red spark in the air was a reminder that Jay was nearing his limit.
The Paso de Jaguar was a technique that seemed crafted for legendary heroes or warriors shaped by a cruel destiny… not for someone like Jay, who had never imagined being forced to fight this way. And yet, he kept using it. And the price began to show.
The muscles in his legs burned. Not a light burn, not a fleeting ache—an inferno, as though live embers hid beneath his skin. Each movement sent pulses of inner fire that shook his breath.
But Jay pressed forward. He kept fighting. He kept existing in that battlefield where only he and the spirit could remain standing.
His black cape, already shredded, flared behind him like a desperate shadow trying to catch him. The ground tore beneath his feet with every burst of speed, leaving deep, scorched lines. The wind was no longer wind—it was a howl born of the unnatural acceleration with which Jay moved.
The spirit, meanwhile, began to retreat. At first, only a step. A minimal oscillation in its shadowed body. But then… the retreat became undeniable.
Every strike from Jay drove it back further. Every kick, every punch, every charge tore at its dark figure.
"Come on…!" Jay gasped, his voice broken, his chest rising and falling like a bellows about to burst. "Don't… you dare… stop now… damn legs…!"
The spirit unleashed more shadow lances. A black rain. Dark. Deadly.
Jay spun, leapt, rolled, dodged, deflected with hands wrapped in faint fire. Each evasion seemed impossible—a twisted miracle in a world that offered him no kindness.
But fatigue brushed against him. It clutched lightly. It breathed down his neck.
A cutting shadow grazed his side. Thick drops of red blood fell to the ground, marking a tragic trail. But he did not stop.
Until, at last, it happened.
Jay appeared behind the spirit in a blink. The air cracked with a sonic burst from the rupture of speed.
His right leg ignited in fiercer flames than before—perhaps from sheer desperation, perhaps from forcing his body beyond its limits.
Jay roared as his body whipped like a living lash.
"Take… THIS… BASTARD!"
The kick struck the spirit's right shoulder squarely. The sound was grotesque, dry—like ice crushed together with metal and bone.
And then, the unexpected.
The spirit tried to reconstruct its shoulder… But this time, it failed.
The shadow trembled. The darkness forming it convulsed violently, like a whirlwind out of control. The hole in its shoulder remained exposed, dripping black miasma that evaporated into the air like poisonous smoke.
Jay, his breath ragged and his gaze trembling, managed a faint smile.
The spirit stood still for a second. A second that felt eternal.
Then—
A scream erupted from within. A hideous, distorted sound, like shattered glass mixed with rusted iron. The shadows around it thickened until nearly solid, blotting out the moonlight.
The ground writhed with shadow tentacles, twisting like starving serpents.
Jay stepped back, clutching a rib that cracked dangerously. His vision flickered, vibrating with pain.
"Perfect…" he said with a broken laugh. "Just what I needed… to piss you off completely…"
The spirit, its shoulder destroyed and its body trembling with fury, stared at him with white eyes like dead moons.
The night seemed to hold its breath.
The battle was about to shift into a new phase. And Jay… Jay was already at the edge.
But even so, he did not retreat.
Not a single inch.