18. Nova

From my vantage point in the Prize Pool, the fighting pit always seemed manageable.

An arena of struggle and blood, but not overwhelming.

Yet now, standing within its confines, the sheer scale of the pit knocked the wind out of me.

The walls were massive, towering in every direction, stretching to meet the starry sky above.

The lights overhead were a dozen times brighter, their beams blinding and disorienting.

My ears were bombarded with the deafening roar of the crowd.

Echoes of cheers, jeers, chants, and cries filled the air, creating a chaotic symphony that made my head spin.

I tried to take a step forward, but the sandy texture of the ground felt foreign under my sandals.

It shifted, fine grains sifting between my toes and making me aware of every movement.

"Focus, Nova,"I chided myself, closing my eyes for a brief moment to regroup.

I could not afford to be overwhelmed now.

Too much was at stake.

Ashale's life.

My life.

Our bond.

When I reopened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Ashale squaring off against Sneik.

The sight gave me a renewed surge of determination.

I anchored myself to it, focusing on the rhythm of Ashale's breathing and the steady beat of his heart.

The two combatants circled each other, sizing each other up.

The tension was palpable, a physical force pressing in from all sides.

The moment hung, stretched thin, a thread ready to snap.

And then, like a thunderclap, they clashed.

Ashale moved with a dancer's grace, every motion precise and fluid.

He spun, ducked, and parried, his sword gleaming in the artificial lights.

Sneik, on the other hand, was all brute force.

He lunged and slashed, his movements wild and uncontrolled.

Yet there was raw power behind those swings, a kind of feral energy that made them terrifying.

Each time his weapon made contact with Ashale's shield or armor, a resounding clang echoed through the pit, a chilling reminder of the damage he could inflict.

My senses became attuned to their battle.

The sharp tang of metal as swords clashed.

The thud of boots on sand.

The harsh breaths of exertion.

Each sensation magnified, making me hyper-aware of the unfolding drama.

At one point, Ashale executed a masterful feint, drawing Sneik in before pivoting and landing a solid hit on his opponent's side.

The crowd erupted in cheers, but I barely heard them.

My heart raced, not with excitement, but with fear.

Every blow Ashale landed was a reminder of the blows he might receive.

Sneik, though clearly outmatched in skill, was not to be underestimated.

With a roar, he charged at Ashale, throwing his full weight behind a vicious swing.

Ashale barely managed to sidestep, and the blade narrowly missed him, sending up a spray of sand.

They continued their deadly dance, moving faster and with more urgency.

With every second, Ashale seemed to be gaining the upper hand.

His strikes became more confident, his footwork more assured.

But I couldn't shake off a nagging feeling.

Sneik might be out skilled, but he only needed one solid hit to change the tide of the battle.

I remembered Ashale's warnings about underestimating the opponent.

Sneik was strong, and strength, when rightly placed, could be devastating.

For a heart-stopping moment, Sneik seemed to gain the advantage, his blade coming dangerously close to Ashale's neck.

But, with a move that seemed to defy physics, Ashale twisted in mid-air, evading the blade and retaliating with a swift kick that sent Sneik sprawling.

Without missing a beat, Ashale pressed his advantage, moving in for what could be the decisive blow.

As their swords clashed once more, I held my breath, waiting, hoping, and praying for the outcome we so desperately needed.

The energy in the pit shifted, an electric charge of anticipation.

The crowd, sensing a climax, fell into hushed whispers.

All eyes were on the two combatants, their every move scrutinized, their every breath counted.

With a swift, calculated move, Ashale disarmed Sneik, his blade flying out of his grasp.

The arena erupted in cheers, but the battle was far from over.

With a fierce determination in his eyes, Ashale advanced, ready to end this once and for all.

* * *

The sightof Sneik stumbling was my cue.

The air in the pit was thick with tension.

I could feel the warm, grainy sand beneath my feet as I rooted myself, drawing on my inner strength.

My fingers tingled, the sensation intense, as I summoned forth my spirit animal.

From the depths of my consciousness, the mighty tiger emerged, its sleek form materializing before me in a shimmer of light.

Its fierce eyes, burning with an inner fire, locked onto Sneik.

The majestic creature, its muscles rippling with power, launched itself at our adversary with a speed that belied its size.

Its snarl, both thrilling and terrifying, echoed through the pit, drowning out the roar of the crowd.

The sensation of the tiger's power, its energy, resonated through me.

I could feel its heartbeat sync with mine, its primal instincts merging with my own determination.

Sneik, caught off guard, had just a split second to react.

His massive hand swung out, swiping at the tiger in a desperate attempt to fend it off.

Simultaneously, Ashale lunged, his sword arcing gracefully but with deadly intent.

The two attacks converged on Sneik, but with a show of brute strength, he managed to repel them both.

My tiger dissolved upon contact, returning to the ether from whence it came, while Ashale was forced to take a step back, regaining his stance.

For a brief moment, there was a lull.

I could hear the ragged breathing of the combatants, the air thick with anticipation.

It was thick, almost palpable, the tension coiling like a spring.

Then, to my astonishment, from Ashale's very being emerged another tiger.

But this one was different.

It bore the hallmarks of an alien world: luminous, otherworldly stripes that glowed with an inner light, elongated fangs that shimmered like crystals, and eyes that held the mysteries of galaxies far beyond our own.

With a deafening roar, Ashale's tarigon sprang into action, attacking Sneik from behind.

The beast was ferocious, its movements a blend of grace and raw power.

Its claws raked at Sneik's back, each swipe leaving glowing trails in the air.

Sneik, now overwhelmed, struggled to fend off this new threat.

The crowd's cheers reached a fevered pitch, the sound wave upon wave crashing down on us, drowning out almost everything else.

Victory was so close I could almost taste it.

But just when it looked like Sneik was on the brink of defeat, he managed to find reserves of strength I hadn't known existed.

With a violent shove, he threw Ashale's tarigon off him, sending it sprawling in the sand, where it slowly faded, its energy spent.

Sneik, panting and covered in glowing scratch marks, turned to face his mysterious support.

His voice, deep and resonant, filled the pit as he bellowed a single word. "Now!"

And the arena, once filled with the exhilarating sounds of imminent victory, fell silent in anticipation of what was to come next.

* * *

As Sneik'ssingle command echoed throughout the pit, a sudden, sharp pain lanced through my chest.

I gasped, the pain so intense it was almost blinding.

It felt like my heart was being squeezed, crushed by an unseen force.

Looking down, I saw my tiger spirit shimmering, its form distorting.

Its roars of defiance were now replaced with cries of fear.

I tried to reach out, to calm and soothe the beast, but every attempt was met with an agonizing surge of pain.

It was like trying to push through a barrier made of razor blades.

I could feel the gritty texture of the sand as I dropped to my hands and knees, the particles digging into my skin.

The ambient sounds of the pit — the audience's gasps, the distant clatter of weapons — faded as if I was submerged underwater.

My vision tunneled, the edges growing dark.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Ashale, also down on all fours, his face contorted in pain.

Sweat dripped from his brow, landing on the sand with audible plops.

His breath came in ragged gasps; each exhale sending puffs of sand into the air. "Caged!" he managed to yell through gritted teeth. "They're caged!"

My heart raced as I tried to comprehend his words.

Turning my head, I strained to look at our spirit animals.

And then I saw it.

It was like viewing the world through a distorted lens.

An invisible, shimmering cage surrounded each of our spirits.

Every movement they made was met with a shower of ethereal sparks as they pressed against their confines.

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

Sneik's support wasn't a fighter; he was a trapper, someone skilled in the art of spiritual confinement.

The alien presence I felt was the essence of the cage.

It was ethereal and otherworldly, and it clung to our spirit animals like an unshakable shadow.

My tiger, previously a symbol of power and grace, now looked pitiable.

It prowled the perimeter of its prison, eyes filled with panic, its growls low and fearful.

The air felt thick, almost suffocating.

Every breath I took was labored, each inhale a battle in itself.

The weight on my chest was unrelenting, like being trapped under a mountain.

In my peripheral vision, the blurred form of Sneik loomed large.

I could hear the soft thud of his footsteps on the sand as he approached, his stride confident, triumphant.

He was close now, so close I could smell the musky odor of his body.

Sneik's laughter, low and mocking, filled the pit. "Did you really think you could defeat me with mere spirits?" he taunted. "You may have been a formidable opponent, Ashale, but without your precious spirits, you're nothing."

His words stung each one a slap in the face.

Despair threatened to engulf me.

I wanted to scream, to fight back, but the pain was too much.

Every movement, every thought, was overshadowed by the relentless agony.

But through the haze of pain, a single thought pierced the fog.

Ashale and I were in this together.

We had faced insurmountable odds before and emerged victorious.

We had each other, and that bond was unbreakable.

Drawing on every ounce of strength, I managed to lift my head, my vision still blurred but slowly clearing.

Across from me, Ashale was doing the same, our eyes meeting in a silent exchange of determination.

But it was Sneik's face that drew my attention next.

His grin, wide and malicious, stretched across his features, his eyes gleaming with malevolent delight.

He could sense his impending victory, and he was savoring every moment of it.

As darkness threatened to claim me once more, that image — Sneik's triumphant grin — burned itself into my mind, a promise of the battle yet to come.

* * *

My ears were still ringingwith Sneik's taunts, but Ashale's voice, strong and unwavering, broke through. "Erys! The support!" he shouted, his eyes fixed on the stranger beside Sneik.

I followed his gaze and focused on Erys, recalling Ashale's mention of him earlier.

He wasn't large or imposing, but there was a calm certainty about him that unnerved me.

I felt a sudden chill, despite the pit's heat.

Acting on instinct, I summoned my bird spirit.

It took the form of a dazzling hawk, its feathers iridescent in the artificial lights of the pit.

With a swift motion, it soared high and dove straight at Sneik's support, a silver streak against the backdrop of the arena.

The crowd's murmurs rose in anticipation.

But just as swiftly, Erys raised a hand, and an unseen force halted the bird in mid-flight.

I heard the soft thud and felt the fleeting touch of feathers on my skin as my bird plummeted lifelessly to the ground.

The invisible barrier that stopped it became palpable as a shimmering cage wrapped around my falcon, trapping it within.

My heart sank.

Desperation welled up in me.

The tangy sweat forming on my forehead made everything seem even more surreal.

I needed to break those cages.

Focusing on my tiger, I willed it to attack its confines, but every attempt met with sizzling sparks and a chorus of agonized roars.

The bars appeared to be made of pure energy, reacting violently to any contact.

Surprise, I thought. Erys can't form cages if he's taken by surprise.

I summoned my octopus spirit behind Sneik's support.

The creature's tentacles, dripping with ethereal water, surged forward, ready to ensnare the man.

But Ashale had the same idea.

His octar, larger and more menacing than mine, emerged from his side, silhouetted against the brightness of the pit.

Together, our octopuses reached out, their tentacles intertwining as they attempted to overpower the psychic barriers of the support.

For a fleeting second, there was hope.

Erys's face registered surprise, a hint of uncertainty clouding his features.

I felt the cool, slippery touch of the octopus tentacles in my mind, and my ears echoed with the squelching sounds they made.

But it was short-lived.

With a sweeping motion, Erys gestured, and two new cages snapped into existence, trapping our octopuses just as effectively as they had our other spirits.

The ethereal water dripping from them evaporated, leaving behind a dry and oppressive heat.

I could hear the gasps and whispers from the crowd, their excitement palpable.

The acrid smell of burnt ozone permeated the arena, stinging my nostrils.

I felt the coarse sand against my feet, and my throat felt parched, the weight of impending defeat pressing down on me.

Looking over at Ashale, our eyes locked.

Words weren't needed.

We both felt the same sinking feeling, the realization that we were utterly outmatched by this unknown psychic.

He was systematically dismantling our defenses, cage by cage, leaving us vulnerable and exposed.

Sneik's triumphant laughter echoed in my ears, the sound grating and mocking.

The hope that had once blazed within me was now a smoldering ember, threatening to be snuffed out.

The weight of our impending doom settled in, wrapping its cold fingers around my heart.

Every sensation was amplified.

The smells of sweat and blood, the distant jeers from the crowd, the gritty feel of the sand, the stifling heat of the pit.

All of it bore down on me, making me feel smaller, more insignificant.

Our last-ditch attempt had failed, and the reality of our situation became painfully clear.

With every spirit we summoned now imprisoned, our chances of winning were slim to none.

The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming, and a chilling thought crossed my mind:

We were doomed.