The canyon lay tense, cliffs towering on either side, shards glinting in pale light. Dust hung thick, sharp with the metallic tang of blood and scorched stone. Every sound—the scrape of boots, the distant clash of blades—carried, amplified across jagged walls.
At the canyon's center, Law faced Viktor. The corrupted axe pulsed with black veins, a storm coiled in dark metal, while Law's twin blades spun in arcs of steel and instinct. Sparks hissed where metal met metal, shards ricocheting across fractured stone, dust curling into the air like smoke.
Viktor lunged, desperation driving each blow. Black corruption rippled along his arms, eyes glinting golden with envy and fury. Law flowed with the rhythm of the fight, golden eyes catching every twitch of Viktor's stance, every micro-shift in movement. Phantom echoes rippled faintly from his scarf, amplifying perception, heightening awareness.
A swing too wide sent shards scattering. Law twisted midair, twin blades slicing in a heartbeat's rhythm, arcs precise, steel meeting corrupted metal in a flurry of sparks. Viktor staggered but pressed forward, fury coiled in every motion.
The canyon seemed to pulse with the duel. Every swing, every clash sent vibrations along fractured walls. Dust drifted, shard-light fractured across jagged surfaces, and the echoes of combat seemed to linger in the stone itself.
Law stepped into an opening, blades spinning in perfect arcs, catching Viktor's axe and shattering its balance. Black veins sputtered, corruption flaring briefly before dimming. Viktor's grip faltered, eyes widening in disbelief. Law's golden gaze remained steady, every heartbeat measured, every motion precise.
Viktor lunged again, reckless, corruption thrumming violently, but Law's twin arcs met the swing with unbroken rhythm. Sparks erupted, shards flew, and the canyon held its breath. With a final, calculated strike, Law disarmed Viktor, sending the axe clattering across the stone floor.
Viktor collapsed, chest heaving, black veins fading. Silence settled over the canyon, thick and tense, dust drifting across fractured surfaces. Law lowered his blades slowly, scarf pooling across stone, muscles taut, every breath measured. The duel was over—Viktor defeated, but alive, still a shadow to be reckoned with.
Elsewhere, the Five pressed on. Nysera's claws raked through the remaining Hunters, teeth clamping gauntlets, amber eyes sharp with instinct. Liora's crystal-blue threads coiled and snapped, bending shard-metal and twisting bodies against stone. Laura's golden ripples froze falling debris, holding boulders just long enough for survivors to escape. Every pulse of their powers was subtle, precise, growing in strength and awareness.
The canyon around them was a storm of dust, sparks, blood, and shard-light. Shadows shifted, Hunters fell, and yet the Five moved like a single, living unit, instincts honed, eyes flickering gold, silver, pale-blue. Every motion carried control, every strike a lesson in survival.
Law rose from the center of the canyon, golden eyes sweeping across the fractured floor. Viktor lay defeated but alive, a rival for another day. Dust drifted lazily, shard-light glinting off fractured stone, echoes of the duel lingering in the air.
For a brief moment, there was silence, a fragile breath in the aftermath of chaos. Yet the canyon held memory—every clash, every strike, every arc of steel and shadow preserved in the stone. The Five regrouped, survivors close behind, eyes shimmering with faint, fragile glimmers of emerging awareness.
Law's scarf flared in the wind, twin blades lowered but ready. The Hunt was not over; the canyon still held danger, and Viktor remained a threat. But for now, survival had been claimed, instincts sharpened, and growth earned in blood, dust, and steel.
Golden, silver, and pale-blue eyes flickered across the canyon, subtle yet insistent—evidence that the Path had spoken, guiding those who had survived the crucible to the next step.