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For a second, I shift forward to shake his hand. Then my earth sense tells me that something’s wrong.

The Onyx Knight’s signature is too heavy.

No, heavy is the wrong word, it’s…resonant. Almost as if the man in front of me is a golem. But that’s not right, either, because I can feel the pulse of his heartbeat along his armored feet. Another thing that shouldn’t be possible, no matter how tightly his armor is strapped on. What are you, Onyx Knight?

When the Knight reaches the center of the arena, his body twists as he scans the crowd.

Did he do that for show? Or is he incapable of turning his head on his neck?

Then, as if he heard my thoughts, he swivels his head toward me, disproving my theory. He’s fucking with me. Or he’s cataloguing everything about me and deciding exactly how I’m going to die.

His helm tilts. The gesture might be acknowledgment, respect, or amusement at the lamb who walked into his killing field.

I grip my sword, lifting it in a warrior’s salute. He might kill me, but we’re both willing participants here.

The knight hefts his weapon, a halberd only a mad blacksmith would craft, in a return salute.

The horn blares, starting the match.

The Onyx Knight blurs as he closes the twenty feet between us in less than a heartbeat.

My sword rises on pure instinct, from muscle memory developed over thirty years of training.

The impact sends shockwaves up both my arms. My shoulders scream. My spine compresses. The force travels down through my legs, and my heels dig trenches in the sand as I slide backward.

I’ve fought rockslides that hit with less power!

I don’t let the Onyx Knight’s first strike diminish me. I pivot hard so his momentum carries him past me and slash at his exposed flank.

The blade connects in a clean hit.

Protected by his armor, the Knight doesn’t flinch. Once he’s three strides away from me, he pivots like I’d tapped him with a stick instead of trying to gut him.

Fuck that.

My anger flares over his ability to shake off my blow so easily. I link to my magic, softening the sand in front of the Knight. His next step will sink, throwing him off-balance. I’m an earth elemental. Of course I fight dirty.

His head tilts the same way as before.

He felt that.

Does he have earth magic too?

Lengthening his stride, he hops over the affected sand.

The Knight’s grip shifts on his halberd, my only warning before he charges. As the halberd swings at me in a wide arc, I throw myself sideways. The weapon passes close enough that I feel the displacement of air across my neck, as well as a phantom pain where the blade would have cut my head clean off.

I hit the ground in a backward roll, recovering with sand in my mouth and murder in my heart. He’s fucking with me. I only escaped unscathed because he didn’t put his full body into it.

The Knight continues moving, reversing the halberd’s direction to aim for my ribs.

I hate men who play with their food. I bring my sword up in a block, bracing the flat on my shoulder and hip. Underestimating his strength will get me killed. I have to put everything I have into every swing and twice as much into every block and parry.

The impact jolts through my arms again, but this time, I’m ready for it. I use the force to spin away, creating distance.

Stone erupts from beneath the sand, answering my command, and I aim the jagged spikes at the Knight’s legs. I’ll pin him in place like a bug if I have to and strike his limbs off one by one until I reach his head.

The Knight barrels through my attack instead of dodging it. The spikes screech across his black plate and shatter. I may as well have grown a field of flowers for him.