After breakfast, Ressa, Ellaazi, and I set off for the gym to spar. Like last cycle, the room was empty, and the doors echoed around the room as they slammed shut behind us.

  “So how do you want to do this?” I asked, facing the two women. “I’ve not seen either of you fight, so I don’t know what you would want to achieve from today’s session.”

  “I want to achieve fighting you,” Ellaazi said. “Torma thinks you’re the best fighter in the year, so I want to see for myself.”

  “Fine. Just take it easy, okay? I know how to fight, but you guys are faster and stronger.”

  “You beat Arun. Did he take it easy?”

  “Yes. But we’re friends. It’s different.”

  She shook her head. “Friends, yes. Different, no. You fight well, you make me stronger. That is good friend.”

  Ressa nodded. “I agree for Ellaazi. Give her all you’ve got. But for me, I’ll be happy to take it very easy. I’m happy to watch first as well. I’m curious as to how a Level 16 human can have an Unarmed class full of arrogant Level 20 Archons quivering in fear.”

  I chuckled. “Hardly quivering in fear. Surprised maybe. And hey, I’m Level 18 now!”

  “I know,” she said, matching my grin. “Wait until they see that you’ve leveled again. They’ll be soiling their britches.”

  “Enough talk,” Ellaazi snapped. “Time to train.”

  She set herself in position. I looked askance at Ressa before setting myself in front of our eager Nyvren friend, the daughter of apparently the toughest fighter in the entire Union.

  “Ready?” she asked, eyes sparkling with eagerness.

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  She darted forward, zigging left, then right in an instant, and sweeping at my legs. It was a crazy start, and in a style that felt a little familiar, apart from the use of a leg sweep. Earl would never have done that. The erratic, unpredictable nature, however, was very reminiscent of my older brother.

  I jumped back, guard high, lifting my front leg to let her kick pass under foot. If she wasn’t so damn fast, I’d have delivered a front kick to her face while she was low. But she was fast and ferocious. Poetry in motion, she moved seamlessly into her next attack. Once again jumping from side to side, her clawed hand came in a blur of movement toward my face.

  I caught it with a block and drove my knee up, clipping her ribs. She absorbed the hit like it was nothing, shifting back with controlled precision before slipping away from my follow-up jab.

  I pressed the attack, throwing a lightning-fast combo to put her on the back foot. But she was too damn fast. She weaved past my first four strikes, then intentionally collapsed onto her back. Before I could react, both of her feet slammed into my chest, launching me backward.

  She flipped to her feet before I’d even landed, and the moment my back touched the wooden gym floor, she was over me. Claws poised above my throat. Glee in her eyes.

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  “I win,” she practically purred.

  “Hardly,” I grunted back as I caught her wrist, and yanked down to the side of my head, putting her in an awkward position. Using my knee, to flip her off me, I scrambled around, keeping hold of the wrist, and getting my other knee down on top of hers to pin her.

  It was a move only a decently high-level wrestler would be able to escape as I applied pressure.

  But I wasn’t fighting a human, wrestler, or otherwise. With only one arm and one leg available to her, she twisted in a fluid, very feline-like move. The power she managed to generate from the position I had her in was nothing short of unnatural, and I was flipped over her head and onto my back. I lost my grip and only just rolled out of the way in time to avoid a vicious kick meant for my head.

  We both sprang up, breath coming harder, eyes locked.

  She grinned. “I liked that move.”

  I nodded. “I like your moves. But I don’t think my body’s built for that kind of contortion.”

  “Nonsense. I won’t hear such talk from you, Adam Henshaw.”

  Then she launched again, a quick one-two to my face. I blocked both, but was left stranded for her kick to my thigh. It damn near broke my leg, and she used it to propel herself airborne. I had no chance to counter, so I scurried back.

  Landing lightly in front of me, unphased by the failed attack, she sprang again, feinting high with another one-two before sweeping low. I jumped back, leg raised, but this time, I kicked out immediately.

  She rolled right to avoid it, but I was already moving, lunging forward to drive my knee into her face as she rose.

  She rolled with the hit, coming up with a bloody grin. An unnaturally long tongue flicked out, lapping at the crimson stream. Her eyes gleamed with something close to joy before she lunged again. Left, right—predictable, but this time, she veered off and slashed at the back of my leg.

  Sharp pain lanced across my hamstring, and I staggered forward, hot blood already flowing from the wound. A hit like that would’ve crippled me when I had first gotten here, but with the increases to my durability in the last two weeks, I was still good.

  I didn’t let Ellaazi know that, though, and channeled my inner Earl.

  With a yelp of pain, I fell to the floor, clutching at the wound, but priming for the moment. Ellaazi jumped over me ready to finish it.

  I fired off my good leg.

  Her eyes widened mid-air, just before my foot slammed into her sternum. The force of my kick met the momentum of her jump, and she flew back to smash into the ground.

  I rolled to my feet as she did the same, slower this time. She was wheezing heavily, her breath rattling like wind through dry reeds.

  Not good. Had I hit too hard? I’d not heard anything snap, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t severely injured.

  “I think you need to stop now,” Ressa said, stepping between us. “Adam, you’re bleeding. Badly. And, Ellaazi, your breathing really doesn’t sound good.”

  Ellaazi still looked ready to fight, despite her inability to breathe properly.

  “I can heal myself,” I said, standing up straight to show I was done fighting. Ressa was right. We’d gone far enough. “Help Ellaazi. I’ve got this.”

  “I can do it myself,” Ellaazi rasped.

  I ignored her, needing to focus to heal my bloody mess of my leg. I healed the wound quickly enough and saw that Ellaazi was doing a lot better now as well. She caught me looking over and grinned.

  “That was wonderful. I’ve never fought anyone quite like you before.”

  “Yeah,” I said, rubbing my head sheepishly, feeling a bit shitty for the deception and the rib-crunching kick. “You’re something else too. The way you move is incredible.”

  “The way you both move is incredible,” Ressa said. “I’m not sure I want to fight you at all after that showing, Adam. Ellaazi is the best in our half of the year-one class, and you just fought her to a standstill.”

  “Not standstill,” Ellaazi said. “Adam won.”

  I shook my head. “You can’t win anything when you’re just sparring. It was a good session. I learned a lot. And if you want to train, Ressa, don’t worry, I can match my level to yours.”

  “Did you do that with Ellaazi?” she asked, seeming genuinely curious. “Because you broke her ribs.”

  I winced. “No, I didn’t. I was fighting for my life.”

  Ellaazi smiled for a moment, then scowled.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  Ressa was frowning now as Ellaazi gestured behind me with a subtle nod of her head. I looked back and saw the object of their ire. Aeloria was here.