"What’s he doing now?" Boris whispered, his eyes locked on Azuma.

  The boy gave a tiny, subtle smile before pressing another glowing disk onto the ruined stone. The Formation hummed to life. It wasn't loud or flashy, but Boris and Valerian saw a faint, quiet light start to crawl across the ground like a slow leak.

  Boris tensed up, waiting for another wall to jump out of the ground, but the space stayed open and eerily quiet. Confused, he looked at Valerian.

  Valerian’s smile was full of amusement. "Remember when I told you the illusion trick in the hunting grounds was my son's work?"

  Boris’s eyes went wide. He looked at the broken scales of Coby scattered across the floor, and the next part of Azuma’s plan clicked into place. He saw the trap clearly, but Dhruba and Anya were too busy looking at their beaten teammates to notice.

  Boris felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his chest. Look at the ground, damn it! he screamed inside his head. Even though he liked Azuma, the thought of the kid going into the Cursed Land alone was terrifying. He looked sadly at Vikram and Rufe. How would they ever tell anyone they got wrecked by a child? The thought of the shame they’d face made him feel a deep pit of pity for them.

  But then, Dhruba suddenly lunged forward like a hungry predator finally seeing a meal.

  "Nooo!" Boris shouted.

  "Shhh," Valerian said, his voice soft but firm. "Spectators stay out of it."

  "But that fool is—"

  "Doing exactly what Azuma wanted, I think," Valerian finished, his satisfied smile never moving.

  "Dhruba, don't move a muscle! This is the same illusion trick from the hunting ground!" Anya’s voice was sharp, cutting through the silence.

  Dhruba stopped dead—not because Anya yelled, but because the world had suddenly vanished. The dark didn't just hide things; it felt heavy, like it was pressing against his skin, cold and suffocating. "Damn it!" he roared, spinning toward where her voice had come from. "You keep saying that! If we just stand here, how are we supposed to hit him?"

  "What’s your big plan then?" Anya snapped.

  "Simple. I’ll just keep swinging until I hit something."

  Anya went quiet, probably realizing how reckless that sounded. "This place is huge, Dhruba. You’ll be swinging for hours." Then she added, "And what if you hit me?"

  Dhruba didn't even hesitate. "Then you better dodge."

  Anya let out a long, slow breath, forcing herself to stay calm. After a second, she said, "Stay still. I’m coming to you."

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  Anya used her Pathfinder ability, moving quickly through the void to reach Dhruba. Once she found him, she tore strips of cloth from their uniforms and tied them together into a long rope. She tied one end to him and the other to herself.

  "I’ll find the path to him," Anya said, her voice focused. "When I’m right in front of him, I’ll drop low. You hit him then. Stay in sync with me, Dhruba."

  "Aunty, that’s cheating," Azuma’s voice chirped from somewhere in the blackness. "You’re using our exact move from the fight with the Cobra."

  Anya didn't answer. She started running at full speed, Dhruba following the pull of the cord. They’d fought together for years, and their rhythm was perfect. The chase started in earnest. Dhruba’s instincts were sharp, and Azuma couldn't find a gap to split them up. The boy was constantly on the move, his breathing getting heavier as he lost his "juice," while the two guards were barely breaking a sweat. Azuma had only won so far with his Formations; in a real scrap, he wasn't their match yet. The chase got frantic, Anya feeling several close calls where her fingers almost brushed him. They knew the stakes: if they failed here, Azuma was gone.

  "What are they doing? Chasing thin air?" Boris asked, totally lost. "They’re tied together like a newly married couple."

  "Hee," Valerian chuckled. "Don't say that, Boris. They think they’re chasing Azuma. Anya has that knack for finding whatever her heart is looking for."

  "Then why does she keep missing?"

  "Her skill isn't ultimate. It just tracks a energy signature. She locks onto the vibe of her target—Azuma, in this case—and finds the fastest way there. But if there are a bunch of targets with that same scent, she follows the closest one."

  Boris frowned.

  Valerian smiled knowingly. "Azuma must have figured that out. He copied his own energy signature and hid it in a bunch of items. He must have scattered hundreds of those fakes when he built the maze, knowing Anya would eventually try to track him."

  The realisation hit Boris like a punch to the gut. "The nodes," he whispered, his mouth hanging open. "The leftover power spots."

  Valerian nodded. "Exactly. Sheesh. They’ve been played from the very start." He went quiet for a moment. "This isn't their first fight. He’s fought them countless times in simulations. That’s the genius of a Formation Master. You watch, you learn, you adapt, and you win."

  "That works for your family, Valerian. Not every Master is that good."

  "How are you missing every time?" Dhruba demanded, his voice sounding strained.

  "I don't know! He’s too slippery. Are you sure you’re tracking him?"

  "I am! Wait—" Anya stopped. She searched for Azuma and found him ten feet away. She reset her skill, looked a different way, and found another Azuma. She tried again. "Damn it," Anya hissed. "He figured me out."

  "Then how do we find him?"

  "I don't know," Anya admitted.

  "Why not look behind you?" Azuma’s voice was calm and dangerously close.

  Dhruba spun around, desperate to hit the voice, but the sudden, wild move yanked the cord. Anya was caught off guard and tripped. The punch missed, but Dhruba kept swinging blindly, dragging the stumbling Anya along with him like a weight.

  "Stop it, Dhruba! He’s luring us!" Anya yelled, scrambling to get her feet under her.

  She didn't make it. A sudden, sharp kick landed right on her face. A sharp twang echoed in the void as the cloth cord went slack—Azuma had sliced through it with a split kick between the two of them.

  He didn't give her a second to breathe. Anya was dizzy from the yank and the kick, and Azuma let out a barrage of attacks. He’d trained with Rufe and Dhruba long enough to know exactly where to hit. Each strike felt heavier than the last. Anya was at her limit when a final, decisive blow—a blunt thud of his sword hilt hitting her stomach—knocked the wind out of her. She hit the ground with a heavy thud and went still.

  Only Dhruba was left. Blinded by the Formation, he was the last one standing. Dhruba was the only one who never went easy because Azuma was a kid. He was ruthless. Azuma had never beaten him one-on-one before. But now, things were equal: Dhruba had lost his eyes, and Azuma was ready.

  "Oi, big skull," Azuma called out, his small voice echoing in the pitch-black void. "Only you're left."