The arena exploded into motion.
The noise from the crowd was deafening, this was going to be a very interesting fight.
The two otherworlders collided in the center of the pit so fast the first impact reached my ears before my eyes properly followed the movement itself. Their spears crashed together with a metallic scream that sent a violent pressure wave across the arena floor, dust bursting outward in a wide circle as scarves, loose cloth, and lightweight debris were ripped away from the lower tiers.
People ducked instinctively.
Someone near the front lost their footing entirely. he fell backwards into those seated behind as a scuffle started, but was quickly quenched as the interest in the fight was more important,
I leaned forward without realizing it.
Angel was already shifting into overdrive.
"Tracking…"
Her voice distorted slightly inside my head.
"…adjusting visual prediction."
The fighters separated for less than a second before rushing each other again, feet grinding against the arena floor hard enough to leave cracks spidering through the packed sand beneath them. Their spears moved in wide sweeping arcs, long flexible weapons that bent slightly under momentum before snapping straight again during impact. The motions looked elegant for exactly one second.
Then terrifying.
Each sweep generated visible shockwaves, compressed bursts of air that rippled outward violently enough to shake the lower barriers surrounding the arena. One strike passed so close to the ground that the sand itself exploded upward in a spiralling wave.
I could follow them now.
Barely.
This meant that i was growing too; at least I wasn't the same person i was the last time.
Their movements weren't random. There was structure beneath the speed, layers of positioning, footwork, timing, tiny shifts in stance that dictated entire attack sequences before the weapons even moved. One fighter spun low, spear extending outward in a sweeping strike meant to cripple movement, while the other vaulted over it in a blur and retaliated with a downward thrust that cracked the arena floor open on impact.
The crowd had stopped shouting.
Nobody wanted to blink.
The proud one, the louder of the two, laughed mid-exchange, his voice carrying strangely clearly despite the violence around him.
"That all you have?!"
The response came in steel.
The second fighter twisted sideways, avoiding a thrust by a margin so small it should not have mattered, then drove his elbow into the other's chest while dragging the spear upward toward his throat. The proud fighter leaned backward unnaturally far, barely escaping decapitation before retaliating with a knee strike strong enough to send a shockwave through the air itself.
The impact blasted against the barriers surrounding the arena.
Metal groaned.
I felt it in my chest.
They moved again.
Fast.
Too fast.
One moment both stood near the center, the next they had crossed nearly half the arena while exchanging strikes so rapidly the sound blended together into continuous metallic thunder. Spear shafts twisted, locked, redirected. Their bodies turned alongside the weapons, every movement connected to the next with terrifying efficiency.
No wasted energy.
No hesitation.
One mistake here meant death.
Then one of them disappeared.
Not literally.
Just—
Gone from where my eyes expected him to be.
He reappeared behind the other fighter, fist already moving toward the side of his head with enough force to distort the air around it. The attack missed by inches as the second fighter ducked under it at the last possible moment.
The punch continued forward.
And hit the arena wall.
The impact detonated through the pit.
Cracks burst outward from the center point instantly, jagged fractures spreading through thick reinforced plating while the entire wall section bent inward violently before stabilizing. Dust rained from overhead structures.
Someone screamed.
Not from injury.
From shock.
That punch would have turned a normal human into red paste.
The two fighters separated again, breathing slightly heavier now, though neither looked tired. Small cuts had appeared across their armor from glancing strikes, but nothing serious. They circled each other carefully this time.
Watching.
Calculating.
The crowd stayed silent.
Even the announcer had stopped speaking.
Angel's voice returned quietly.
"Combat proficiency exceeds current integration capability."
"No kidding," I muttered internally.
The proud fighter rushed first again, spear thrusting forward repeatedly in rapid succession, each strike aimed differently, throat, ribs, knees, eyes. The second fighter retreated smoothly, deflecting with minimal movement while waiting for something.
An opening.
It came.
The defensive fighter twisted suddenly, trapping the spear under his arm while driving his own weapon toward the other's stomach.
The proud one reacted instantly.
Too instantly.
He abandoned the spear completely and grabbed the incoming shaft with his bare hand, the force ripping blood across his palm while stopping the thrust inches from his torso.
Then—
Everything stopped.
A wave exploded outward across the arena.
Not air.
Not sound.
Something else.
The pressure hit me like a mountain collapsing onto my shoulders. My body locked instantly, muscles freezing under an invisible weight so overwhelming my lungs struggled to pull air properly. Around me, people froze where they stood or sat, expressions twisted between confusion and panic.
The entire pit had gone still.
The two fighters dropped to their knees immediately.
The proud one hit the ground harder, one hand bracing against the arena floor while blood spilled from his nose and mouth in thin streams. His body trembled violently as he tried to resist whatever force was crushing him down.
The second fighter had already lowered his head.
he was submitting to whatever was causing the pressure
The pressure increased.
My vision blurred slightly.
"Angel…" I thought.
Her voice screamed directly into my mind.
"PSI LEVELS INCREASING. HIGH-LEVEL PSIONIC ENTITY DETECTED. DO NOT MOVE."
I couldn't have moved even if I wanted to.
The force pressed against everything, bones, muscles, thoughts. It felt less like weight and more like reality itself deciding where you were allowed to stand.
The proud fighter growled through clenched teeth, trying to rise.
Bad idea.
The pressure slammed down harder.
Blood splattered onto the sand beneath him.
The second fighter stayed kneeling.
Smart.
Very smart.
I forced myself to look upward.
Slowly.
Painfully.
And saw them.
The otherworlders standing above the tiers had separated automatically, creating space around a newly arrived group. Older this time. Noticeably older. Their armor looked different too, cleaner, sharper, less ornamental and somehow more dangerous because of it.
One of them stood at the front.
Tall.
Still.
Calm.
The pressure was coming from him.
I knew it immediately.
Didn't need Angel to confirm it.
The air itself bent strangely around the man, faint distortions rolling outward in invisible waves while everyone beneath him remained pinned under the crushing force of his presence alone.
He hadn't moved.
Hadn't raised a hand.
And yet the entire pit felt like it belonged to him now.
The older man looked down toward the kneeling fighters with visible disappointment.
Then he spoke.
Quietly.
And somehow the entire arena heard him clearly.
"Pathetic."