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He comes forward. I step inside. Elbow. Palm. Shoulder. Movement. Everything Rhyven drilled into me when I hated him for taking my weapons. Everything Vayne forced me to do injured. Everything Caelen made me relearn. No single answer. Dax catches my waist. Throws. I hit the mat.

Hard. Air disappears. He comes down. I roll. His hand hits where my throat was. I get up. Slow. Too slow. His forearm catches my ribs. Pain explodes. Fuck. Blood Echo surges. Again. This time anger comes with it. Good. Let it. Anger isn't failure. Power isn't failure. Choice. That's the point. Dax circles.

Waiting. He wants to see what I do. I breathe. Once.

Twice. Blood Echo remains open. I remain me.

Dax's smile disappears. Not concern. Recognition.

Oh. He sees it. The bell ends Round Two. Neither wins. Again. Professor Vayne looks at me. Then Dax.

"Third."

Dax laughs. "Of course."

Round Three allows everything. Weapons. Manifestations. Environment. No lethal force. Obviously. Probably. I retrieve both daggers. Dax switches from sword to short blades. Interesting.

He wants speed. Fine. Before the bell, he says quietly:

"Last time you fought me, you were terrified of that thing."

Blood Echo pulses. I look at him. "I know."

"What changed?"

The bell sounds. I smile. "Me."

We collide. This time there is no testing. Dax knows. I know. We fight. Really fight. He is better than me. I know that within thirty seconds. More experienced. Stronger. Faster when his manifestation peaks. Better recovery. Better endurance. But— I'm harder to predict. And apparently that matters. Dax expects daggers. I kick. He expects Blood Echo. I don't use it.

He expects retreat. I close distance. He expects me to protect my dominant hand. I switch. Again. Again. Again. He laughs at some point. Actually laughs. "Corvell ruined you." I block a strike.

"No." Turn. "Improved."

Dax nearly catches my throat. "Debatable."

We separate. Circle. My lungs burn. Blood Echo hums beneath everything. I can feel Dax's heartbeat. Fast.

Steady. I could push. Maybe. Not sure. Doesn't matter. He comes left. I know before he moves. Blood. Shoulder. Weight. I dodge. Strike. He blocks.

His second blade appears. I barely catch it. Metal against metal. He pushes. Too strong. I release my dagger. He wasn't expecting that. His resistance changes. I step sideways. He stumbles half a step. Enough. I reach for the dagger at my thigh. Dax turns. Claws instead of blade. His manifestation shifts. Not full wolf. Enough. Sharp. Dangerous. His hand catches my side. Stops. At the same moment—my dagger reaches his throat. Stops. Silence.

Neither of us moves. My blade rests against the pulse beneath his jaw. His claws rest against my ribs. Heart. Close enough. If this were real— I would cut. He would tear. Both dead. Professor Vayne's voice comes from outside the ring.

"Dead."

Dax doesn't look away from me. "Which one?"

"Both."

I breathe hard. "That's encouraging."

"It shouldn't be." For one second, nothing. Then Dax starts laughing. Deep. Breathless. Genuine.

He pulls his hand away.

I lower the dagger. "What."

He shakes his head. "Fuck."