"Ahhhh... fuck..." Angelo lay sprawled in the dirt, every breath sending fresh waves of pain through his body. "Everything hurts. Everything."

"WOOOOOW!" Red's voice exploded in their shared mind like fireworks. "That was incredible! Did we win?!"

Across the field, Sol wasn't doing much better. "Oh man... that hurts like a son of a bitch..." He tried shifting position. Sharp pain answered. "Ahh... shit..."

Blue approached with measured steps, Neiva trailing behind him. Her face remained completely blank as she stared down at Sol—not even a hint of concern.

"Never mind." Red's enthusiasm deflated after catching Sol's condition through Blue's eyes. "It's a tie."

"All of that..." Angelo groaned. "For a tie?"

"Yep!" Red's cheerfulness returned full force. "But hey, winning's not everything! The real treasure was the bones we broke along the way!" His mock-innocent tone made Angelo want to strangle him. "Now get your sorry ass off the ground. Nobody's gonna carry you."

Angelo hauled himself up in stages, each movement accompanied by sharp intakes of breath. "Ugh... my arm. Please don't be broken again..." He limped toward the ship.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Sol waved Blue off, breathing hard. "Can walk on my own..."

When both fighters converged at the ship, Angelo managed one word. "Blue... chairs..."

Blue's aura flickered as forged energy seats materialized. "A 'please' wouldn't kill you, you realize."

"Please..." Angelo's tone suggested it might actually kill him.

Both he and Sol collapsed into the chairs, wincing as their battered bodies protested even that simple motion.

"Maybe next time you'll think twice before going all-out in a sparring match." Neiva's disapproval radiated off her like heat from a furnace.

"Don't..." Angelo raised a pained hand. "Just... don't."

"Oh ho ho, she's pissed!" Red cackled internally, delighted.

"Could someone..." Sol's breathing came ragged. "Regenwater. In my bag. Front pocket... medium bottle..."

Blue nodded and moved to retrieve it, leaving the two fighters alone with Neiva. Neither dared meet her eyes. The silence stretched like pulled taffy until Blue returned holding what looked like a medicinal bottle.

"Here you are, Solomon."

Sol inspected the cork-stopper that doubled as a measuring cup. "One dose should do it." His voice carried exhaustion as he downed it like a shot, then passed the bottle to Angelo.

The effect hit immediately—like someone had lifted an anvil off their chests.

"Damn, that's good stuff!" Sol's energy returned in visible increments as the water worked its magic.

Blue observed with scholarly satisfaction. "The power of scientific advancement."

"Nerd." Red's jab made Blue's eye twitch ever so slightly.

"Yeah, I'm already feeling bet—YOUCH!" Angelo yelped as Neiva grabbed his injured arm and yanked up the sleeve. Gentle was not in her vocabulary right now.

"You're bleeding." She released his arm abruptly.

"Ow!" Angelo rubbed the spot as Neiva disappeared into the ship without a backward glance.

Sol and Angelo exchanged worried looks—then straightened when she emerged carrying bandages.

She set to work on Angelo's arm with efficient, rough movements. He wisely kept his mouth shut.

Blue examined Sol's injuries. "Excellent thinking, Neiva! Might I have some bandages as well? Solomon requires attention."

She threw the roll at Blue without looking.

Blue caught it smoothly and began tending to Sol's wounds without commenting on her behavior.

The tension grew suffocating. Angelo cracked first. "You're mad."

"No." One word. Clipped.

"She's lying!" Red sang internally.

"Thank you, Red. Very helpful." Angelo's mental sarcasm was palpable.

"You're welcome!" Red's cheer made Angelo want to scream.

Angelo fought the urge to roll his eyes, terrified Neiva would think it was towards her.

"Come on..." He tried again, voice softer. "Something's eating at you. Just say it. You'll feel better if you—"

"I'M NOT ANGRY!"

The snap echoed across the clearing.

Silence fell like a hammer. Angelo caught Sol's loaded glance—a universal male expression that said you're on your own, brother.

"Right..." Angelo turned inward. "Why is she so furious?"

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"Hell if I know. Maybe you forgot her good morning kiss or something." Red's teasing carried genuine amusement.

"Come on, Red! Be serious for once!" Angelo's mental voice cracked with frustration.

Blue's hands stilled on Sol's bandages as his analytical mind engaged. "Most peculiar. Her demeanor was perfectly pleasant before and during the sparring session. She seemed enthusiastic, even requested to practice with me..." The pieces clicked. "Ah. I see."

"Wait..." Angelo's thoughts raced. "You don't think this is about—"

"Blue cock-blocking her? Oh absolutely. Nice work, professor!" Red's mockery was unmistakable.

Blue actually stopped working on Sol entirely. "H-How is this possibly my fault? I was merely occupied with analytical observation!"

Angelo let out a quiet sigh—quiet enough that Neiva wouldn't catch it. Then, carefully: "Are you upset you didn't get to fight with us?"

Neiva didn't yell. Didn't even speak at first. But she paused—like someone processing a wound they'd been ignoring.

When she finally spoke, the words came out like a confession. "I'm not angry. I'm disappointed." Her hands stilled on the bandages. "For so long I was dead weight. But now I can actually fight. Except nobody here thinks I'm even worth their time."

Guilt hit all three men like a punch to the gut.

Sol's voice softened. "I'm sure Blue would love to spar with you. Right, Blue?"

Blue straightened, caught off-guard. "Y-Yes! Absolutely! It would be my genuine pleasure to—"

"I don't need your pity." Neiva shook her head. "You'd just go easy on me anyway."

Blue's mouth opened and closed uselessly, one finger still raised in mid-gesture like a statue someone forgot to finish.

Sol's mind worked the problem—couldn't leave her hanging, but couldn't throw the match either. Then inspiration struck. "What about Red? He's not quite Blue's level, so he wouldn't need to hold back!" He added quickly, "Uh... no offense, Red."

"Oh, fuck off." Red's reply went unheard by Sol.

"I don't know..." Neiva looked smaller somehow.

"Come on, we'd love to see what you can do." Sol shot Angelo a pointed look that could've drilled holes. "Right, Angelo?"

"What—oh! Yeah! Absolutely!" Angelo's enthusiasm came out forced, mechanical. "Just, uh... Red needs to recharge first." His aura flickered to life. "Give him maybe thirty minutes? If you're interested?"

Neiva looked away, shy. "Okay..."

All three men exhaled shakily in unison while she wasn't looking. The crushing tension eased to merely uncomfortable.

Thirty minutes later, Neiva sat cross-legged in meditation at the same clearing where Angelo and Sol had nearly killed each other. Angelo—aura still burning—and Sol stood near the ship, watching.

"Think Red's actually going through with this, or is he chickening out?" Sol kept his eyes on Neiva's still form.

"I'll show him a chicken!" Red's indignation lacked any real thought behind it.

"He'll do it once he's fully recharged. Should be any second now." Angelo studied Neiva the same way Sol did.

"Red." Sol addressed him directly, voice low. "I know we said 'no holding back,' but even at twenty-five percent, you're still an evolved Auron with way more experience. Just... make it look like you're not holding back. Okay?"

"Pretty detective boy needs to relax. I know what the hell I'm doing." Red's tone carried zero concern.

"He says he knows," Angelo relayed reluctantly.

Crimson smoke drifted across the field like something alive, the setting sun painting the horizon blood-red as it crept toward Neiva. Red materialized in an exaggerated dramatic pose.

"So!" His voice boomed across the clearing. "You think you've grown strong enough to challenge me? The messenger of chaos itself?!" His crimson aura exploded outward like a bomb going off.

Neiva's eyes opened. She rose slowly, hands settling on her sword hilts.

Red's arm shot forward, finger wagging like a disapproving teacher. "Ah ah ah... You want a real battle? Then we need ground rules: No Trinergy weapons. Drop them."

Angelo and Sol's eyes went wide. Neiva hesitated, then unclipped the hilts from her belt and tossed them aside.

Red cackled, forged claws extending from his fingers. "Now we can get this party started!" He turned his predatory grin toward Angelo and Sol. "Hey, losers! Start the countdown!"

"That little—" Angelo's teeth ground together.

Sol chuckled. "He's having the time of his life, isn't he?" He stepped forward. "You two ready?!"

"Yes!" Both fighters called out simultaneously, assuming their stances. Metal swords materialized in Neiva's grip as armor began forming around her body piece by piece.

"Ready...? FIGHT!"

Neiva launched first, closing the gap with impressive speed. Red just stood there, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

She slashed with both swords—precise, calculated strikes.

Red weaved through them. "Oops! Ah, almost! Whoa!" His running commentary continued as he dodged, until finally he parried with a forged arm that appeared mid-air. "Ha! That was cute!" His friendly tone vanished instantly, replaced by something hungry. "My turn."

He swiped at her. She leaped back—then Red slammed his palms to the ground, his aura writhing violently.

"Energetic Fissure!"

Dozens of forged tethers erupted like wild serpents, attacking from every angle. She dodged, countered, parried—her swords deflecting the tethers that bounced off the blades instead of getting cut.

She retreated to the edge of the crimson jungle, then just... stopped.

Red didn't pursue. "What's wrong? Giving up already?"

Neiva stood frozen in defensive stance, mind racing. "Why can't I cut through them? They bounce, so I'm strong enough for that... but why bounce instead of slice clean through?"

She lifted one blade, studying it. "Maybe it's too dull? Do I need to sharpen it somehow?"

Without warning, she tossed one sword aside—it embedded itself in the tree where Sol's jacket hung. She gripped the remaining hilt with both hands, eyes closing as she focused.

"Feel the blade..."

A faint sound reached her ears—like breaking glass at a microscopic level, metal layers being forced apart molecule by molecule. Her breathing deepened as she concentrated on that single blade.

When her eyes opened, the sword looked different. The way moonlight caught its edge—sharper, more polished, more real.

She took one deep breath. Her eyes locked onto the writhing death between her and Red. Her grip tightened.

She charged.

Red readied himself, the crimson serpents moving with violent anticipation as Neiva closed in—

"EEYAAAAAHH!"

She slashed. The tethers fell apart like warm butter.

"What...?" The question escaped Red's mouth before he could stop it. Even Angelo and Blue stood frozen in shock.

Neiva pressed forward through the writhing mass, each strike more lethal than the last. Her expression went blank—completely in the zone as she cut through tether after tether until she broke free of the obstacle and charged straight at Red.

Red materialized clawed gauntlets around his arms—longer than his actual limbs to increase reach. They met in a flurry of strikes. Red actually tried here, but Neiva's movements were sharper, more precise. She kept cutting through his forged energy. He kept regrowing it.

She jumped back suddenly.

What happened next shocked everyone—but Angelo most of all. Something that shook him to his foundation.

The metal sword in her hands slowly transformed into a scythe that caught the rising moonlight. She spun it like she'd been born holding it, then charged again with dramatically increased reach.

Red actually had to work to dodge now. She almost had him a few times while blocking his strikes.

"AHHHHHH!" He launched forward, arm extended for a finishing strike.

Slash.

Neiva and Red landed on opposite sides of the field. A heartbeat passed.

Red's arm—still encased in forged energy—dropped to the ground before dissolving into crimson smoke that flowed back to Angelo's arm.

Red's eye twitched as he turned toward the zoned-out Neiva. "F—"

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKKK!"

His scream echoed off the mountains into the darkening night, startling birds from their roosts and possibly waking small villages miles away.

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