Viktor moved first, not charging, but circling, twirling the staff lazily between his fingers like it weighed nothing. His footwork was light, precise, and deceptively casual. Liam didn't move. He narrowed his eyes and angled his baton in front of him. He was waiting, calculating for Viktor to strike.
Then Viktor struck.
The staff blurred coming low for Liam's ankle. Liam pivoted, blocking with a sharp twist of his baton, the crack of wood-on-metal echoing through the store. He countered with a jab to the ribs. Viktor twisted away, laughing.
"Nice! Faster than I expected."
Liam didn't answer. He pressed forward, baton flicking toward Viktor's wrist, then shoulder. Liam was using tight and controlled strikes to attack. Viktor blocked them with short, efficient movements, the staff spinning between his hands as if it had a life of its own.
Liam fainted left, then came hard from the right. His baton aimed for Viktor's thigh.
Crack.
Viktor met it with a downward strike, knocking the baton away, then spinning the staff in a full arc aimed for Liam's back. Liam ducked, rolled, and came up on Viktor's left side. He drove his baton upward in a quick uppercut. Viktor blocked again, but the force pushed him back a step.
"Okay," Viktor muttered. "Maybe I need to get a little more serious."
Liam said nothing, eyes fixed.
They clashed again.
Liam was compact and surgical, with his military training on full display. Viktor was fluid and explosive. His style mixed formal staff work with flourishes of raw, unpredictable power, an unorthodox rhythm that forced Liam to constantly adjust.
The fight turned fast with the staff and baton moving faster than some people could follow.
Viktor swept low making Liam jump. Viktor surged forward, staff raised like a spear. Liam twisted midair, deflecting the blow with the length of his baton, landing hard and stepping back.
Viktor followed up with three quick strikes to Liam's side, then overhead, then a backhand that Liam barely blocked.
Liam clenched his teeth. "You hit like a freight train."
"Sorry about that, I will try to be more gentle," Viktor smirked.
Liam drove forward, baton moving in tight arcs, aiming for Viktor's hands. Viktor deflected them all, his body moving like a dancer, until Liam feinted a strike and instead kicked Viktor's knee.
Viktor stumbled.
Liam surged in baton raised.
But Viktor grunted, dropped his weight, and spun, making the staff sweep wide and low. It caught Liam's legs out from under him. Liam fell back with a hard thud, but rolled fast, already springing to his feet.
Breathing heavily now, both men circled again.
Their final clash came quickly.
Liam darted in with a flurry of baton strikes: chest, shoulder, then a feint to the thigh. Viktor absorbed the first, twisted from the second, and then turned into the third with a spin of his staff that disarmed Liam entirely sending the baton clattering across the floor.
But Liam wasn't done.
He lunged barehanded, grabbing for Viktor's arm. They grappled briefly, strength against strength. Viktor let out a short bark of laughter, twisted, and flipped Liam over his hip.
Liam hit the ground flat on his back, breath leaving him in a huff. Viktor's staff stopped an inch from his throat.
Logan stepped forward, hand raised. "Match. Viktor wins."
Liam stared at the ceiling for a second, chest rising and falling, then he blinked and nodded once.
Viktor reached down, extending a hand. "Not bad for a guy with a stick, huh?"
Liam accepted the help. "You're faster than you look."
Viktor smirked. "And you're stronger than you act."
They stood dusting themselves off as murmurs and cheers rippled through the group. There was respect in Liam's eyes now and maybe even the faintest twitch of a smile.
I watched from the side with my arms crossed.
After Logan called the match, a ripple of excitement surged through the group.
"Alright!" Nicole clapped her hands. "Everyone who hasn't sparred, pair up!"
People didn't hesitate. The energy was high and competitive. Adrenaline still buzzed in the air from the last three fights. Mitch challenged Sloan with a smirk, calling him an 'old meathead.' Briar locked eyes with Hirose and the two nodded without a word. Josh ran back into the circle, this time motioning for Laney, who gave him a soft smile stepping forward.
The sound of shuffling feet, soft grunts, and wooden weapons clashing filled the electronics store.
Liz was awkward at first, trying to swing her padded stick like a sword, but Devan corrected her grip and gave her a few pointers. She nodded, blushing, and started again. Jesse and Giselle circled each other with smirks, exchanging light blows, both more focused on flair than form. The air was thick with tension, but not danger. Everyone was careful. Serious, but smiling.
Then I looked over and noticed Sol standing near the edge of the practice space, twirling his sheathed dagger idly. He wasn't just waiting, he was watching and studying everyone.
Logan caught it too.
"You're the only one with an active skill, right?" Logan said, stepping forward.
Sol blinked, then nodded.
"Let's see what it looks like. You and me. No holding back."
Sol hesitated. "You're sure?"
Logan's smile was faint. "Don't go easy on me."
They stepped into the ring. Logan took a relaxed stance, dagger held in reverse grip, elbows loose. Sol crouched slightly, his movements light. The crowd quieted as they squared off.
"Start!" I said stepping back.
Sol moved first. Even faster than when he was fighting Josh, but not as fast as him using Quick Step. Logan shifts his footing immediately creating space between the two. Their blades clashed in the middle, Sol parrying up and under before retreating in a blur of motion.
Then Sol whispered, "Quick Step."
His form blurred, just a shimmer, and he vanished from Logan's front to his side. Logan reacted with a pivot, bringing his dagger up just in time to deflect Sol's strike.
Everyone saw it. The black threads of mana trailed in the air behind Sol, ghostly and flickering. Sol came in again, faster this time. Logan met him blow for blow, but his movements were tighter, more grounded. He focused on keeping his footing, letting Sol dart around him like a shadow.
They clashed three more times, sparks flying from blade edges.
Then Sol surged in low, ducked under Logan's guard, and came up behind him, dagger tapping against Logan's back.
"Point," Nicole called from the sidelines.
Logan exhaled and gave a nod. "That's some skill you've got."
Sol didn't grin. He just stepped back, breathing evenly, the faint wisps of dark mana still fading from the air around him.