(A/N Big thanks to everyone for the Power stones and Golden tickets, they mean a lot. As usual, please don't hesitate to comment or drop a review. ENJOY)

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The ground cracked beneath Orion as he pushed himself up, wiping the dust from his sleeve. Erevan didn't move, watching him with the calm patience of someone who had already measured the distance between them.

Then they moved again.

Erevan closed the distance in a single step, footwork tight, body low. His punches came in pairs — left, right, elbow — precise enough that Orion could almost predict them, yet fast enough that knowing didn't always mean avoiding. Orion ducked under the second, turning on his heel to counter with a sweep, but Erevan stepped over it, twisting mid-air and landing a kick that grazed Orion's jaw.

It was clean. Efficient. Beautiful.

Erevan's precision met its threshold. His strikes began chaining beyond human rhythm, each hit followed by another faster, sharper, stronger. Orion intercepted, but the strain built. Erevan landed a blow across his jaw— another to the chest — another to the leg. Orion's body staggered backward, friction lines burning the ground beneath his boots.

"Sheesh.." Orion muttered, spitting blood from his mouth.

He stabilized, rolling his shoulders once. The next instant, he was gone.

The ground behind Erevan exploded. Orion reappeared, motion seamless, speed condensed into teleportation— aether step and TD {Temporal displacement} woven together but controlled within the limit. His foot crashed toward Erevan's flank. Erevan twisted mid-spin, barely evading, but the passing air burned against his arm from the pressure.

Erevan dropped low, sweeping with his leg. Orion jumped, rotated midair, heel descending like a guillotine. The strike met forearm. The shockwave sent both sliding apart.

They met again.

The tempo became savage.

No technique wasted, no hesitation tolerated. Their bodies functioned beyond conscious thought — each instinct layered over years of training, each reaction sharpened by awareness. Every impact led to explosion of force.

Orion exhaled then shot off again.

The ground fissured as he moved. His strikes weren't as refined as Erevans, but they carried raw speed — precise control layered over bursts of power. Erevan parried the first, dodged the second, but the third connected. Air rippled as the impact sent Erevan sliding backward across the grass.

Erevan steadied himself mid-slide, twisting his wrist once. The force he absorbed redirected through his body, grounding him again.

"You're improving fast." He said with his head tilted.

"Adaptation's my thing," Orion said.

They clashed again.

Fist met forearm, forearm redirected elbow, elbow countered knee — rhythm building, tempo rising. Each exchange tightened, neither allowing more than a hair's width of error. Orion wasn't fighting to defeat; he was fighting to learn, to measure, to feel the precision of Erevan's mastery, and of course to have fun.

Then, the balance tipped again.

Erevan shifted momentum. He weaved under Orion's guard, stepped into his blind side, and drove an uppercut into his ribs. Orion's breath hitched. The follow-up — a turning kick — hit his shoulder cleanly.

Orion slid back, bracing his stance, but Erevan didn't let him reset. Another flurry came — not wild, but calculated chaos. Every move chained to a counter. It was like watching a textbook unfold at high speed.

A faint notification blinked in Orion's vision.

[Mana usage: 12%]

He chuckled inwardly. "More it is."

The next instant, his mana flared.

The ground shimmered faintly under him — not from overt magic, but from the sheer pressure of contained energy. Erevan's eyes sharpened, body instinctively lowering. Orion didn't move in a straight line; he folded space subtly, adjusting the angle of approach. Erevan countered with fluid repositioning, meeting him mid-lunge.

Their fists collided. A dull, heavy sound — bone against reinforced mana. The air shockwaved outward, grass flattening in a circle.

Neither backed down.

Orion threw another punch, faster this time, using the rebound from the last strike to accelerate the next. Erevan blocked with both arms, grunting as the force slid him back. His heel dug into the earth, channeling mana through his legs for traction.

Then Erevan retaliated. One short step — just one — but the entire exchange flipped. His hand chopped through Orion's guard, hitting a pressure points, joints that would destabilize and hurt. A sharp strike followed to the shoulder, locking it briefly.

Orion's arm went numb.

Erevan didn't wait — he pressed in, body turning with the motion. Another strike to the gut. Another to the thigh. Every blow was surgical, forcing Orion to move exactly how Erevan wanted him to.

The next notification flickered.

[Mana usage: 21%]

Orion smirked, even while blocking the next hit. "You're good." He said, flexing his shoulder and popping the bone back into place.

"You're predictable," Erevan replied.

That did it.

Mana rippled again — cleaner, denser. Orion shifted his footing, breaking Erevan's lock. He turned, pivoting with a burst of speed that distorted his afterimage. Erevan caught the tail of the movement but couldn't fully read it — Orion's rhythm had changed.

He had learned.

Erevan ducked under a kick, but the following punch clipped his temple, sending a small tremor through his balance. He recovered fast, sliding away, but Orion followed — relentless, focused. The tempo inverted. Erevan was now on the defensive.

Their exchanges blurred into streaks of motion, light clashing against shadow, every impact echoing through the glade.

[Mana usage: 30%]

The fight was even now.

Erevan grinned. "Finally."

"Don't tell me you were bored," Orion said.

"I was disappointed."

"Then you're in for a surprise."

They lunged together again.

This time, it wasn't about who hit harder — it was about who adapted faster. Erevan's technique refined with every movement, but Orion's learning speed was monstrous. His brain matched data points in real-time, adjusting parry timings and strike trajectories within seconds.

He took a hit — absorbed it — turned it into counterforce. He dodged — not by instinct, but by prediction.

Erevan feinted low, pivoted left, then exploded upward. His elbow struck Orion's ribs with brutal force. Orion bent just enough to absorb the impact, then countered with a rising knee, but Erevan had already rotated — his forearm blocked it, redirecting the motion back. The two disengaged for half a second — just enough for both to reset.

For a heartbeat, they both smiled. This was pure combat — no spells, no crutches, just raw understanding of body and will.

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