And then they moved.
Neither held back. Neither calculated for survival. At this point, it was about pride—two warriors who had found an equal in the most unexpected of places, to put it more bluntly they were enjoying this so the best way was to go all out, to fully enjoy this fight.
''Starfall!"
Basil's sword descended like a collapsing star. Gabriel met it with both fists wrapped in lightning and elemental dragon scales.
BOOM!
The shockwave flattened the burning embers around them. The earth beneath their feet cracked and cratered.
Gabriel slid back, his heels digging trenches into the ground. Basil didn't give him a moment to breathe. He spun, his sword trailing fire, and unleashed a horizontal slash aimed at Gabriel's throat.
Gabriel ducked. The blade passed so close it singed a few strands of golden his hair.
He retaliated instantly.
"Seventeen Consecutive Palms!"
The name was improvised, but the technique was not. His palms shot forward in rapid succession—each one carrying the weight of his condensed mana, each one aimed at different vital points on Basil's torso.
Smack. Smack. Smack!
Basil blocked the first six with his sword. The seventh slipped through and struck his shoulder. The eighth and ninth hit his forearm. The tenth slammed into his chest.
''Cough!"
He coughed. Once. Twice.
But he did not fall.
Instead, he grabbed Gabriel's eleventh palm mid-strike, his fingers locking around Gabriel's wrist like a vice.
"You're fast," Basil said, grinning through bloody teeth. "But speed without weight is just wind."
He yanked Gabriel forward and drove his knee into Gabriel's stomach.
Oof!
Gabriel's breath left him. Golden lightning flickered erratically around his body. He felt something crack—a rib, maybe two. But he did not double over.
His expression turning feriocious as he headbutted Basil.
Crack!
Their foreheads met. Both men staggered back, blood streaming down their faces.
Stars danced in their vision. But neither fell.
"Hah..." Basil laughed, a wet, rasping sound.
''You're insane."
"You started it," Gabriel muttered, wiping blood from his brow.
They stood there for a moment—three meters apart, chests heaving, bodies bruised and broken. The Fire domain had long since dissipated. The elemental swords lay scattered as fading embers on the ground.
Basil raised his sword one final time. The blade was chipped. His arms were shaking.
Gabriel raised his fists. The golden lightning had dimmed to a faint shimmer. His knuckles were split open.
No words were exchanged. None were needed.
They charged.
Basil's sword blazed with the last remnants of his fire mana—a single, condensed strike aimed at Gabriel's center.
Gabriel's right hand blazed with the last remnants of his lightning and light—a single, condensed punch aimed at Basil's sword.
Time seemed to slow.
This is it, Gabriel thought. Either I break his sword, or he breaks me.
This is it, Basil thought. Either he shatters my blade, or I cut him down.
They clashed.
Light and fire exploded outward in a dome of pure energy. The ground beneath them evaporated. The air itself screamed.
For one breath, two breaths, three breaths—nothing was visible except blinding white light.
Then silence.
The light faded.
Basil and Gabriel stood motionless, frozen in their final poses. Basil's sword was pressed against Gabriel's chest—the tip stopped just short of piercing the skin by a hair's breadth. Gabriel's fist was pressed against Basil's throat—stopped just short of crushing his windpipe by the same impossible margin.
Neither had landed the decisive blow.
They had both pulled back at the very last nanosecond—not from fear, but from mutual recognition. If they had followed through, they would have killed each other.
Basil lowered his sword first. His arm fell to his side, trembling.
Gabriel lowered his fist. His legs buckled slightly, but he caught himself.
"A draw," Basil said, his voice hoarse.
"A draw," Gabriel agreed.
They stood there in the ruined field, bleeding, broken, and grinning like fools.
From a distance, two figures watched—Lilith and Elfie, having long since finished their own test.
Elfie crossed her arms. "So... who won?"
Lilith smiled softly. ''Normally, I should have said my man but that seems to be the case, isn't it?"
Elfie chose not to comment while thinking, she is clear headed. She is really dangerous this woman.
The sun began to set over the scorched earth, casting long shadows across the two warriors who had given everything and lost nothing—because sometimes, finding an equal was victory enough.