Fenja's claws sliced through the air again, each strike precise, honed by years of training—but her mind was elsewhere, tangled in memories she could never fully shake.

Her village had always been part of the cult's territory. Born a slave, she inherited the chains of her parents' titles. Only as a Circle Warrior could she truly claim freedom. And now, here she was, facing a cocky boy who dared make her feel as if she could be enslaved again. She hated that.

Her sister had suffered far worse, always forced to shield Fenja from the cruelty drawn by her beauty. What had once seemed a gift had proven a curse. Every glance, every unwanted attention, had led to beatings, nights of fear, long torments. Fenja's heart ached with guilt for the pain her mere existence had caused, yet she had been powerless to stop it.

And now, another arrogant, smirking First Circle warrior tried to make her his slave. Impossible. She would never allow it. Yet her hatred wasn't reserved solely for him—it extended to the absurdity of her own situation. Master Kirk didn't have to send her into this duel. She and her sister could earn in a single day what he hoped to gain from this fight. Yet here she was, risking life and limb for a paltry sum.

Fenja's fists clenched. Her fury flared in her domain as she lunged again. But the boy—wet behind the ears though he was—refused to fall. Frustration burned within her. Her white Domain glowed brighter, her nails elongating at alarming speed. Fingers stretched unnaturally, muscles tightening, veins standing out like cords. Bones snapped and reshaped in seconds, creating joints and leverage cassian hadn't thought possible. Her feet followed, claws forming additional joints for reach and power.

Cassian's eyes flicked to her transformation, a smirk tugging at his lips. "A wild type," he murmured. He'd found another rare Domain user: Transmutation type

Smirking, he activated his own Domain. Fenja vanished from her previous position—and reappeared to his right and left simultaneously, slashing with deadly precision. The power she had gained in moments had tripled, but the strikes met only air, leaving confusion flickering across her feral face.

Cassian had blinked out of sight and reappeared directly before her. A gust of wind lifted her hair, and cold steel pressed against her throat.

"You lost?" he asked, calm, deadly.

Shock rippled through the onlookers. No First Circle warrior they had ever seen moved like that. Even Fenja's eyes widened at the impossible speed. Brigid smirked subtly, impressed despite the advantage of surprise, already calculating how this sudden move could be leveraged. Lucas and the other captains were frozen, mouths agape. Kirk's eyes glimmered coldly as he watched, satisfied that his arrangements were unfolding exactly as he wanted—people bending without him lifting a finger.

"Stop," Kirk said firmly, voice carrying absolute authority.

"But—" Kirja growled, gripping her sword, veins popping with fury.

"I said stop," Kirk repeated, tone leaving no room for argument. "I'll get her back. Don't worry… and he's going to be mine too."

Kirja's jaw tightened. Memories of Kirk's cruelty surged beneath her skin—the border villages, the orchestrated starvation, the slow, deliberate breaking of people he had forced to fight each other. She had been there, and she could have razed it all alone, yet he sent only enough hardened men, dragging the rest from the starving villagers. Hunger, fear, and despair were his theatre, and he reveled in it.

The anger coiled like a blade within her. Cold, controlled, honed. "Then let me be the one to take him…" she said, voice low.

"That depends on him," Kirk said, his gaze sharp, letting the choice land fully on Cassian and the sisters. He didn't intervene further—letting the stakes play out was far more satisfying than acting himself.

"Kill me. I won't be a slave again…", Fenja spat, her voice trembling with defiance.

Cassian smirked pressing the edge of the blade lightly, enough to keep tension high. "But that was the bet. If I beat you, you become my slave…"

"I don't care about that. Not like I swore an oath, and it's not like you could beat me if you hadn't caught me by surprise." She pressed her neck closer to his blade, her glare sharp enough to make him pause, impressed by her sheer defiance.

He sighed slowly, enjoying the weight of the moment. "Well… if you really think I can't beat you, what about your sister?"

"What do you mean?" Fenja asked, suspicion flickering in her eyes.

Cassian's smirk widened. "I mean, if you don't believe I could beat you without surprise, let's talk about your sister. With her fighting me, I'm sure she could win. So here's the deal—if you become my slave, I'll challenge her. If she wins, I'll set you free. Want to bet on it?"

Fenja fell silent, memories of her sister's first breakthrough rushing back. The girl had saved her countless times. She had killed to protect Fenja, leaving scars on herself, and Fenja had felt helpless. But she had vowed never to be her sister's burden again.

But again, she had to swallow her pride. 'Sorry, sis… I need your help again,' she thought, a bitter sigh slipping out as she lowered her hands. Her frame shrank back to normal, the towering presence fading, though her glare stayed sharp as ever. Looking up at him, she spat, "Fine. But swear it before everyone—if my sister beats you, you set me free."

Cassian's grin widened. "Of course I will." He turned to the crowd, voice carrying over the murmurs. "As you all saw, I beat her. She'll be my slave. But since she asked for one thing as her first request…" He smirked down at Fenja, who kept glaring, while Ronan's men stepped forward and held her fast. "She asked that her sister get a chance to win her freedom back. So—Fenja's sister, if you want your sister free, come fight me. Win, and not only will I free her, you'll take the prize money too."

Kirja stiffened, hand tightening around her sword. "You—" she began, but Kirk's firm voice stopped her mid-word.

"Enough," he said, eyes glittering with cold amusement. "She's right. That boy didn't beat your sister through sheer power. He caught her off guard—nothing more. But now… you've been given the choice to test him yourself. Use it wisely."

The crowd of soldiers murmured, some confused, others intrigued. Bets had already been placed on Cassian defeating Fenja, but this development made everything fluid. The stakes had just multiplied.

Cassian's smirk widened. "And while we're at it," he called across the clearing, voice loud enough to snag everyone's attention, "any Second Circle warrior who steps up after I make that angry sister my slave—" he glanced at Fenja and Kirja as they spat curses, then gave them both a lazy, provocative look, "—and wins against me can claim them as well. Of course, money too, and only if you actually beat me."

A ripple of eager grins and shouts went through the crowd.

"Choose me—been dying to get my hands on her!" someone hollered.

"Bring it on. I can beat a kid like you one-handed," another barked.

Men, mages, and Circle warriors alike called out, hungry for the spectacle. One voice cut through the noise: "Not just one—challenge me after you beat a few more. I want both sisters."

Brigid's eyes glinted as she watched it all unfold. 'Arrogant bastard—like the prize money wasn't enough. What if he lost…' Her glare burned with equal parts fury and disbelief. Beside her, Ronan and Lucas exchanged troubled looks; neither had expected Cassian to raise the stakes this far. It was fortunate they'd set the rule that he could pick his own Second Circle opponents. Win or lose, every fight would still bring in coin—but the risks he was piling on made their stomachs tighten.

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