I felt good.
Too good.
But not the usual kind of rush I got from a fight. This was something else, like there was a lightness in my chest, a kind of warmth in my heart I couldn't pin down. I couldn't quite grasp it, couldn't describe it either.
Didn't make sense. But it was there.
It didn't sit right.
Jackal glanced at me briefly, then looked away. Maybe he felt it too, maybe not. Hard to tell with him.
Still, no time to think about it.
The guy across from me straightened up, breathing rough, a streak of blood dragging down from the corner of his mouth. He flexed his hands once, then made fists. Not shaking with rage or anything. Just... steady. Sharp. Like he knew exactly what he needed to do now.
The pressure around him surged again. Not smooth this time. Erratic. He wanted to reset the pace, reclaim control.
I didn't let him.
I moved in first, steps fast but measured, body low. He tried to boost back with a burst of force, but I cut the angle. I pivoted under his attempt to disengage and slammed an elbow straight into his gut.
He folded, breath leaving him in a choked grunt.
But he didn't fall.
He launched upward with a pressure burst from his legs, twisting midair. A desperate spin-kick aimed at my head.
I raised both arms just in time. The impact rattled through my forearms, but it wasn't enough.
My bones were conditioned, taking hits like this would not hurt me.
I grabbed his leg mid-swing and yanked him down.
He crashed to the ground, hard, stone scraping his shoulder.
I didn't wait.
A knee to the side. A fist to the chest.
He spasmed, pressure flickering like a dying spark.
Then he stilled.
I stood up slowly, breathing steady. Not tired. Not drained. Just… content.
That was the strange part.
I should've felt the tension of a real fight. The wariness, the adrenaline spike that fades slow. But instead, all I felt was peace.
As if the fight had never been about survival.
As if it had always been meant to end this way.
I looked around.
Most of the duels were over. Only two still going.
Jackal was locked in one of them, and from the look of it, he was enjoying himself.
His opponent was trembling. Jackal was feasting on the fear.
And he was good. Better than I expected at close quarters. His movements were sharp, efficient. Not flashy, but precise. Like someone who didn't just fight with his body, but with instinct sharpened by something darker.
He caught a punch, twisted the arm behind the warrior's back, and whispered something I couldn't hear.
The man buckled a moment later.
Jackal didn't even strike. He just let go and stepped back, watching the warrior crumble under the weight of his own mind.
He still hadn't used the new skill he'd told me about. I wondered if it had a long cooldown, or if he just didn't want to reveal it yet.
Either way, I'd see it eventually.
The rest of the training was drills. Simple stuff. The only thing we did was that we kept repeating the same combination on each other, again and again. Like they were hammering it into our muscle memory.
Felt like two hours passed before it finally ended.
Me and Jackal returned to our chambers, showered off the dust and sweat, then sat down to eat.
"You weren't bad out there," I said, glancing over at him.
He nodded, more serious than usual. "Yeah. I trained a lot before I awakened."
I looked at him for a moment, almost like I was cautious, then asked, "You feel it too, don't you?"
He didn't look at me, just kept eating. It took time for him to push the words out.
"Yeah," he said finally. "But I don't think there's anything we can do about it. Not right now."
The door to our chamber creaked open. Two guards stood there, unmoving, their masks gleaming in the dim light.
They spoke, that same strange tongue we'd heard since we arrived.
Only this time, we understood it.
"The Chief would like your presence," one of them said.
I blinked.
Jackal looked at me. I could tell he caught it too.
We understood them.
Not a translation. Not a system window.
We just… knew.
Something had shifted.
We followed the guards through the halls back toward the temple.
The doors opened for us again, just as easily as before. No grand fanfare. No ceremony. Just that quiet, inevitable welcome.
Inside, Zuran and the Chief were waiting.
"Well, hello, our astonishing guests," Zuran said, his tone warm and velvety. "How are you liking it here?"
"Quite well," I answered, keeping my expression even. "What's the occasion?"
"Straight to the point. I like it," he purred, beginning to walk, slow, measured steps, his massive paws gliding across the stone with an eerie sort of grace.
This time, it was the Chief who spoke. His voice was deeper than Zuran's, rougher, like stone dragged across wood.
"The duel for both of you is set two days from now. In the morning. There will be preparation today and tomorrow."
Simple. Final. Like a sentence being passed down.
"Sounds good. Do we know who we'll be fighting?" Jackal asked, casually, too casually.
Zuran answered, voice smooth as ever. "One of them is from the House of Tapir. The Yuxina warriors you first met."
He paused, his tail swaying once behind him.
"The other… well, I don't believe you've met him."
The Chief continued, his voice steady, almost ceremonial. Like this mattered far more than the trivial questions we were asking.
"You will be marked tomorrow morning. It is a necessity for the ritual. Once one has been touched by the symbol of Solarity, they must bathe in the Crescency of the Moon."
"Wonderful," Jackal said, his stitched grin never wavering.
I didn't respond. Didn't want to.
There was nothing to say.
But something was building inside me, slow, painfully slow.
A rage I couldn't explain. Not yet. But I knew one thing.
Soon, a lot more would be clear.