The fight slowed, but not because either side was weakening, and instead because every movement had become too important to waste, forcing both sides into a state where even a single misstep could decide everything.
Jovian could feel the strain building, not just in his body, but in the connection between himself and Vital Mirage, which had grown sharper, heavier, and more demanding with each passing moment.
Every strike he made now required intent, not just instinct, because Voss's control over the battlefield had reached a level where careless attacks didn't just fail—they were punished immediately.
Lucien moved carefully along the edge of the field, Midnight Sontana phasing in and out of presence in short bursts, testing the limits of Voss's perception while avoiding direct engagement.
Alaric held the center when needed, Golden Cavalier absorbing pressure that would have broken weaker defenses, while Iggy circled unpredictably, looking for even the smallest gap to exploit.
But the gaps were disappearing.
"…We're being worn down," Lucien said quietly, his voice steady but strained.
Jovian didn't deny it.
"Then we stop playing his pace," he replied.
Because endurance alone wouldn't win this.
Not against someone who adapted as quickly as Voss did.
Vital Mirage shifted slightly, its stance changing in a way that felt unfamiliar, yet natural at the same time, as if it was responding to something Jovian hadn't fully understood yet.
Across from them, Voss watched in silence, his expression unchanged, but his presence heavier than before, as though he had already accepted how this would end.
That irritated Jovian more than anything else.
Because if there was one thing he refused to accept—
It was an ending that had already been decided.