The air trembled.
Each impact between Nene Kyoshi and Hiroki Kyoshi rang like a bell forged from blood and steel. The sand no longer lay smooth; it shifted under invisible pressure, swirling around the two generals as their energies clashed again and again.
Abel stood frozen at the edge of the arena, eyes wide. His mind struggled to follow what he saw—two figures weaving between flashes of red and silver, too fast to be real. Even his breath seemed afraid to move.
Nene moved first this time.
Her body barely turned, but her hand brushed the hilt of the weapon strapped to her back—a golden knuckleduster, a crude weapon compared to its owner, with a curved blade of about 35 cm that glowed faintly with a pale light. As he drew it, it sang, a note that silenced everything else.The blade wasn't large, but it didn't need to be. It curved downward from the back of her hand like a crescent moon, each motion tracing perfect arcs through the air.
"That bitch, she duels like it's a street fight. I hope that 'Thing' breaks" Stipo said.
She didn't strike to kill. She danced.
Every flick of her wrist redirected Hiroki's blows, guiding them past her body with precision that bordered on mockery. The red blade of his tachi slashed through air, missing by inches, always meeting that golden curve.
Abel's heartbeat matched the rhythm of their duel—fast, erratic. "She's toying with him," he whispered.
Beside him, Sheshy's hands tightened on the railing. Her knuckles went white. "She shouldn't…" her voice trembled, "she's provoking him."
Below, Hiroki's expression shifted. The calm in his golden-ash eyes burned away, replaced by fury. His movements grew heavier, faster—each strike leaving visible waves in the air.
"She's too calm," Stipo muttered. "He's going to snap."
He was right.
Hiroki roared, and the ground exploded beneath his feet. In a blink, he vanished. Abel's eyes darted wildly, searching, but he could only see blurs—shadows of movement, bursts of light.
Then—blood.
A red arc cut across Nene's leg.
She staggered slightly, the sand shifting beneath her sandals. The faintest tremor crossed her lips—not pain, but irritation. Abel's breath caught in his throat.
"She's hurt…" he whispered.
But Hiroki wasn't done.
He was already moving again, faster, closer. The red tachi flashed, a line of death aimed at her throat.
For the first time, Nene didn't completely evade. The blade grazed her ear—and a sliver of white fell into the sand.
Her right ear was gone.
The crowd gasped. Even the air seemed to freeze.
Nene straightened slowly. Blood traced a single line down her neck, catching the sunlight like a crimson thread. Her white eyes glowed brighter—divine, terrifying.
Sheshy whispered, "Sensei…"
Nene's hand rose to her back again, slower this time. From the twin straps crossed over her shoulders, she drew her second weapon—a taiaha made of translucent azure crystal, about 1.5 meters long, a weapon that combines the functions of a spear, an oar and a fighting staff, an unusual weapon, its blade edge black as midnight.
The weapon seemed alive. Threads of Affinity shimmered faintly around it, pulsing with her heartbeat. When she gripped it, the entire arena hummed in response.
Abel felt it—like pressure building behind his ribs. "What is that thing?" he breathed.
Stipo's voice dropped to a whisper. "That's her focus weapon. I've only seen her use it once. When she uses it… she doesn't hold back, she is going to use aura... fuck."
Down below, Nene shifted her stance. The Taiaha's tip touched the sand, leaving tiny glowing trails as she spun it once—a blur of blue and black. Her expression remained tranquil, but her presence no longer did.
Hiroki snarled, stepping forward. His energy surged—the red aura around him now burning bright enough to distort the air. The tachi in his hand screamed with strain.
"You've lost your grace NENE!" he shouted. "Let's end this!"
Nene's reply was calm. "Then come and end it, child."
The next instant, everything broke.
A deafening crack split the ground as Hiroki lunged, his sword cutting downward in a flash of molten red. Nene never met it with her taiaha but the clash still create shockwaves, sparks of light scattering like shattered stars. The sand between them vaporized, turning to small glass shards under the force.
For a moment, they were both still—locked between strength and perception.
Then the pressure tore outward.
Wind exploded through the courtyard, sending spectators stumbling back. The weaker barriers flickered, unable to contain the raw force anymore. Abel shielded his face, grit biting at his skin. "They're going to destroy everything!"
Stipo moved.
In one fluid motion, he jumped down from the spectator's tier, landing hard on the cracked sand. His coat flared as he drew one of his twin tantos—thin, bright, almost ceremonial. Without hesitation, he dragged the blade across both palms.
Blood spilled freely, but instead of falling, it hung in the air—glowing crimson.
The blood hardened midair, forming into translucent red panels that expanded outward, locking into place around the ring. They shimmered with crystalline veins, refracting the sunlight like stained glass.
A barrier of solidification.
Stipo turned slightly toward Abel and Sheshy, shouting over the noise. "This'll hold—barely. Now she can go all out!"
Sheshy didn't move. Her eyes were fixed on her master, her face pale with fear. "If she goes all out… she could die," she whispered.
Abel swallowed hard. The barrier vibrated under the force of the two generals' next clash, sending cracks running through the crystallized walls. He could see their figures flicker inside—Hiroki's red and Nene's blue, colliding again and again like storm and sea.
"Look closely," Stipo said, his voice suddenly grave. "This isn't a duel. It's a life for survival."
Nene pivoted inside the storm, her Taiaha slicing through Hiroki's guard with effortless precision. Her movements were slower now, but deliberate—every step aligned with her breathing, every strike paired with a soft hum of energy.
Affinity pulsed through the air, bending Hiroki's strikes just before they connected. Her perception extended beyond sight—it was as though she felt his soul move before his body did.
Still, he pressed on. His blade glowed like liquid flame, and each swing carved deeper into the arena floor.
Then—impact.
A surge of red light flooded the barrier, followed by a burst of blue. The sound hit like thunder. The blood wall cracked, humming, but didn't break.
Abel leaned forward, heart pounding. "Who—who's winning?"
Stipo didn't answer.
Inside, the figures separated. Nene stood tall, her Taiaha pointed downward, her white hair fluttering in the turbulent wind. Across from her, Hiroki knelt—his tachi buried in the sand, breath ragged.
But she was bleeding too. Thin lines of red ran down her arm and leg, the fabric of her tunic torn.
Yet she smiled.
A calm, almost tender smile.
She spun the Taiaha once more, the black blade gleaming. "You still hold too tightly to your anger, Hiroki," she said softly. "It blinds you."
"Spare me your sermons old lady, this is for revenge and you knew it" he growled.
She sighed. "Very well. Then let us finish this as warriors."
Their eyes met—white and gold.
Hiroki shouted, "I AM HIROKI KYOSHI, SON OF LOUSIE EFREM AND ABRHA KYOSHI, STUDENT OF THE GREAT ERMIAS KYOSHI, TODAY I GIVE MY LIFE IN THIS BATTLE, I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE!
"Abel's chest tightened, caught between awe and dread.
Nene replies, "I AM NENE KYOSHI, DAUGHTER OF MEWAEL TEMESGEN AND MEHRET KYSOHI, STUDENT OF THE GREAT ASURI KYOSHI. TODAY I GIVE MY LIFE IN THIS BATTLE."
Stipo muttered, "Damn, the battle motion, shit," then yelled, "A HAND WITH THE BARRIER HERE?!"
Sheshy whispered, tears barely restrained, "Please… don't die, Sensei…"
To be continued…