The arena shifted again.
Where moments ago the battlefield had been glassy and dreamlike for Cyrus and Vel, now the stone trembled, reshaping into a jagged coliseum carved from obsidian and scorched red rock. Crimson banners unfurled from invisible heights, and heat rolled in from nowhere—dry and suffocating, like a furnace breathing just behind the veil.
Above, the false sun pulsed a dull red.
Orion stood alone on one end, Lunaris gripped loosely in his hand. His cloak stirred in the dry wind. Across the field, her boots crunching over broken stone, walked Sena—the crimson-clad duelist of the Ardent Blades.
Her long red coat shimmered with faint heat. A scar curved beneath her right eye like a fading ember. She stopped five paces from the center and tilted her head, eyes gleaming.
"Well," she said, "didn't think they'd throw me at the Child of Moonlight this early."
Orion blinked. "Child of what?"
Sena grinned. "That's what they're calling you now. You, with that silver hair and the crescent over your eye. Half the students say you're Selene's favorite. The other half think you're a fluke."
"I don't care what they think."
"Good," she said, rolling her shoulders. Heat shimmered off her arms. "Then you won't mind when I beat you."
The overseer's voice boomed from above.
"Match Two. Orion of Cohort Two. Sena of Cohort Three. Commence."
The moment the word dropped, she launched.
No warm-up. No hesitation. Sena surged forward like a falling star—fast, direct, and burning. Her first swing was a wide arc of crimson flame, a heated hook aimed at Orion's midsection.
He ducked under it with a sharp sidestep, sliding on one knee as Lunaris came up in a smooth defensive arc. Her second blow landed against his blade with a hot clang, sparks scattering.
"You fight clean," Sena muttered. "Too clean."
Orion didn't reply. He slipped into Stillness, focusing—not on her flame, but her rhythm. Every strike of hers had a pulse, a beat, like a war drum. He waited for the moment between the beats, the silence.
Sena noticed.
"Oh," she said. "You're a listener."
Another step. Another blow. Her boots skidded across scorched stone as she unleashed a burst of fire from her heel—propelling herself into a spinning kick, flame trailing her leg like a ribbon.
Orion twisted away, letting her pass by, and flicked Lunaris out in a smooth arc. It kissed the edge of her coat.
Sena grinned again. "Not bad, moonboy."
He exhaled slowly. "You're fast."
"Faster than most."
Their blades met again.
Lunaris glowed faintly with Selene's light, while Sena's twin shortblades gleamed with red-hot runes etched down their spines. Her style was aggressive, unpredictable—fire made flesh.
But Orion had trained for unpredictability. He didn't react to each strike. He read her tempo, redirected her force. Parry, step, angle—like a tide shifting under moonlight.
"You've got control," Sena said between flurries. "But you don't fight like someone who wants to win."
Orion's eyes narrowed. "And you fight like someone who needs to."
"I do."
With a sharp whistle, flames erupted around her in a full-circle blast. Orion jumped back, coat singed, and watched her stand in the center of a growing ring of fire. Her crimson star-mark pulsed on her collarbone like a second heartbeat.
"Crimson Bloom," she whispered.
A rush of red light burst from her limbs, igniting the air. Heat slammed against Orion like a hammer. She moved again—faster now, not just speed but pressure. Her attacks blurred, like petals caught in a wildfire.
Orion was forced back step by step, retreating behind Moonveil, his shield of lunar energy shimmering to absorb the blows. Each strike sent waves of heat crawling up his arms.
She was good. No—she was better than good.
He ducked under a horizontal slash and countered with Echo Step, vanishing and reappearing behind her. His blade came down.
But she spun—expecting it—and their weapons locked again.
Face to face.
"You're good too," Sena said, breathless but still smiling. "I've seen your matches. Thought you were all grace and light. Didn't think you had teeth."
"I don't want to hurt you."
She barked a laugh. "Too late. You already are."
Orion hesitated—and she slammed her forehead into his.
Stars burst behind his vision.
He staggered back, blood running down his brow. Sena didn't give him time to recover. Another blast of fire surged from her step, and she closed the gap in a blink.
Their blades met once more—heat against moonlight, flame against reflection.
And in that moment, something shifted.
Orion stopped retreating.
He planted his feet, adjusted his grip, and stared into the fire. The heat roared around him, but he didn't flinch. His mind was cold. Focused. Beneath the fire's rage, he found the rhythm again. The music of her movements.
He stepped forward.
Their blades clashed—and for the first time, she gave ground.
Sena's eyes widened.
"Oh," she whispered.
Orion spoke, voice low. "You fight like the sun."
She blinked. "That supposed to be a compliment?"
He raised Lunaris. "It means I respect you."
Sena's smile returned. Slower. More real.
Then her aura exploded again.
Crimson Bloom intensified—petals of flame swirling like a hurricane. The arena turned red. The heat cracked the stone. Orion raised his blade just as the fire closed in around him like a tidal wave.
And then—
Everything went white.