Kael folded his arms, his sharp gaze locked onto the battlefield. His jaw tightened as he observed Ash standing before Norman. This isn't good.
He knew Ash. Knew his strength, his limits. And he could tell—Ash was still holding back. But against an opponent like Norman, that hesitation was a mistake. A dangerous one.
Kael's eyes flickered across the audience, scanning for anything out of place. His instincts screamed at him that something wasn't right. With a barely perceptible shift, he leaned toward Uren and whispered, "Be ready when I give the signal."
Uren, sitting aside him, nodded without hesitation. "Yes, Master Kael."
Meanwhile, in the arena, Norman stood still, his presence towering despite his silence. The revelation of his face beneath the battle-worn helm had stirred the crowd into murmurs. His dark skin contrasted against the pale, intricately carved armor he wore, a warrior of both mystery and brutality. His head was covered in thick, beaded braids, but it was his eyes—or lack of them—that made him unsettling.
Both were shut, sealed beneath old scarred gashes that ran jagged across his face. Yet he moved as if he could see everything.
Ash, however, kept his gaze fixed downward. His hands clenched at his sides, his muscles coiled with tension. [No, no, no. Not yet. Damn it.]
His mind raced. I'm saving everything for that bastard Ronny, not for some lame-ass warrior. But then Norman spoke.
"Ash..." His voice was deep, carrying an eerie calm. "Well, that's not the name I was tasked to—" He paused, tilting his head slightly. "Muda."
The moment the name left Norman's lips, Ash's breath hitched. His entire body stiffened.
His head snapped up, eyes wide with fear. How does he know that name?
But as he met Norman's expressionless face, everything shifted.
The world around him warped. The ground beneath his feet spiraled, twisting like a whirlpool. His vision blurred, colors bleeding into each other in sickening waves. A heavy weight crashed onto his skull, pressing down with unbearable force.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears. [What… is this…?]
Norman hadn't moved an inch, but Ash felt like he was being pulled under, drowning in an unseen current.
The world twisted around Ash, warping into something unnatural. The air felt thick, suffocating, as if unseen hands were pressing against his skull. His vision blurred—spirals of color twisting in ways that shouldn't be possible.
His knees buckled slightly, but he forced himself to stay standing. [What the hell is this?]
Norman hadn't moved. Hadn't even opened his damn eyes. Yet Ash felt like he was being crushed under an invisible weight.
A cold, damp floor. Chains rattling in the dark. The scent of blood and iron thick in the air.
His thoughts roam around his mind thinking when. When he revealed his identity.
His breath quickened.
[No. No. No.]
His tail coiled behind him, instinctively tensing, but his body felt slow—like something was dragging him down. He clenched his fists, his claws digging into his palms.
He had to shake this off.
Through the spiraling haze, he barely registered Norman stepping forward, his movements deliberate, slow—like he already knew how this would end.
"You don't belong here, do you?" Norman mused, his voice eerily calm. "A beast playing human. Hiding in plain sight. But you can't hide from me."
Ash gritted his teeth, forcing his head up. His vision wavered, but he locked onto Norman's scarred face. "Shut up."
Norman smirked slightly. "You feel it, don't you? My Dominion weighing down on you. You can barely move."
Dominion.
The word sent a chill down Ash's spine.
So that was it. Norman wasn't just strong—he had a power that warped perception, bent reality for target itself. A technique meant to break an opponent before a single blow was even thrown. A total domination on senses.
Ash exhaled sharply, pushing through the nausea clawing at his mind. His fingers twitched, ready to ignite—but he hesitated. No. I can't waste it here. I need to keep it locky. Think ash think how can you climb out of this pit.
Norman took another step forward.
Ash's body screamed at him to move, to dodge, to react but he can't sense where is he coming from his ears not giving him signals, his nose leaking transparent fluid messing up with his smell all his heightened senses are lost in thick fog—But before he could, Norman was already in front of him.
A massive fist drove into his stomach.
Ash's vision exploded into white-hot pain.
His body lifted off the ground, crashing into the arena floor with a sickening crack. Dust and stone shattered beneath him, sending a shockwave through the battlefield.
The crowd erupted into cheers and gasps.
Kael's eyes narrowed from the stands. "Tch."
Uren tensed beside him. "Master Kael, should we—?"
"Not yet," Kael muttered, fists tightening. [Ash, get your shit together. Don't embarase sir Lionheart's choosen like this.]
In the crater of rubble, Ash coughed, spitting out blood. His head throbbed. His ribs ached.
Norman loomed over him, still unreadable, still terrifyingly calm.
"Get up, Muda," he said simply.
Ash wiped the blood from his mouth, fire flickering in his eyes.
Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. Ash rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck as he steadied himself. His stomach still burned from the impact, and his vision wasn't fully clear yet—but the haze was starting to lift. His breathing slowed, controlled.
Norman observed his condition for a second before speaking, his voice calm but edged with something deeper.
"You know… I hate when people mock me." The words landed strangely in Ash's mind, confusion flickering through his thoughts.
Then Norman continued. "I hate when people think I'm not worthy enough to be bested."
Ash exhaled sharply, realizing what he meant. He knows.
Norman wasn't just fighting to win. He could feel that Ash was holding back.
The revelation made something twist in Ash's chest.
Norman remained still, his closed eyes betraying no emotion, yet his presence felt heavier. "You're fighting me like I'm some stepping stone," he said. "That's a mistake."
Ash wiped the blood from his chin with the back of his hand. "Yeah, well… I'm full of mistakes."
But now, he couldn't afford to make any more. Norman moved, his steps slow and deliberate. He wasn't rushing. He didn't need to. He thought this fight was already over.
Ash's fingers twitched. He needed to test something.
With a sharp exhale, he lunged forward—only to feel the pressure of Dominion return, pressing down on his shoulders, his skull, his chest.
There it is again.
His steps slowed. He gritted his teeth. His muscles locked as if weighted chains had wrapped around him.
Norman cocked his head slightly, sensing his struggle. "You're fighting against something you can't overpower."
Ash exhaled through his nose. "You think?"
With sheer will, he forced his arm up, poison form around his forearm, flickering wildly—unstable. He swung, but Norman shifted effortlessly, sidestepping at the last second.
A fist drove into Ash's ribs.
Another into his shoulder.
He staggered. [Shit, he's fast.]
Norman didn't let up. He weaved through Ash's sluggish movements, his strikes precise. Not wild, not desperate—calculated. He knew exactly where to hit.
Another blow cracked against Ash's side.
The world tilted.
For a split second, he saw something—not the arena, not the fight—something else.
[A memory?]
Chains. Heat. His breath ragged. A voice whispering. "No. Not now. Not again."
He snapped back, barely dodging the next strike. Norman's closed eyes didn't waver, his head tilting slightly as if amused.
"You're unraveling," Norman murmured.
Ash let out a short, breathless laugh. "You talk too much."
He planted his feet. He couldn't keep fighting in Norman's space. He had to reset.
With a sharp inhale, he kicked off the ground, flipping backward, gaining distance. His tail curled mid-air, shifting his momentum before he landed in a low crouch.
The crowd murmured. His tail was fully exposed now. No more hiding.
Kael, watching from the stands, exhaled slowly. "Finally."
Norman didn't react. He simply stood there, waiting.
Ash shook his hands out, rolling his wrists. His knuckles rotting, his body ached—but his mind was clearing.
"You're good," he admitted, liquid dropping from his fingertips. "Real good."
Norman didn't respond.
Ash cracked his neck.
"But you know what's funny?"
His posion concentrates—more potent, wilder.
The ground beneath him started to blacken.
"I'm enjoying this."
With a roar, he exploded forward, poison leaks from him.
And this time—he wasn't holding back.