Jhaeros crouched low, keeping to the undergrowth as he followed the signs of struggle—crushed foliage, splattered dirt, and scorch marks that still smoldered.
Velka padded silently beside him, ears flicking as she caught the distant echoes of a one-sided fight.
The air was thick with the scent of burnt cloth and blood.
And then, finally, they found her.
Nara was exhausted.
Her breathing was ragged, her fists raw, and her body swayed slightly with every step.
But she wasn't stopping.
The elf who had dared to drug her lay beneath her, bruised, swollen, and barely conscious.
Every time he tried to rise, she struck him down again.
A punch to the gut.
A knee to the ribs.
A kick that sent him rolling across the dirt.
Even in her fatigued state, she was a force of pure violence.
Jhaeros watched as the elf coughed up blood, his trembling arms trying to shield his face.
"P-please..." he wheezed.
Nara grabbed him by the collar and lifted him off the ground with one arm.
"Please?" she snarled. "You didn't say 'please' when you threw that poison at me, did you?!"
Her fingers clenched around his throat.
The elf's eyes bulged.
Jhaeros Intervenes
"That's enough," Jhaeros called out.
Nara didn't even flinch.
She simply tightened her grip.
Jhaeros sighed, stepping forward. "He's already beaten. Killing him now won't change what happened."
Nara slowly turned to face him.
Her eyes were still wild—like a cornered beast, still on the edge of frenzy.
"And?" she growled.
Jhaeros met her gaze, unflinching.
"And if you kill him, you give his House an excuse to come after you outside this tournament."
Her grip loosened.
Just a little.
Jhaeros took another step. "You really want to deal with vengeful elven nobles breathing down your neck?"
For a moment, she didn't answer.
Then—she let the elf drop.
He crumpled onto the ground like a ragdoll, gasping desperately for air.
Velka huffed, seemingly unimpressed.
Nara rolled her shoulders and spat to the side.
"Fine," she muttered. "But if he so much as looks at me funny again—"
Jhaeros smirked. "I'll pretend I didn't see a thing."
She let out a short, harsh laugh, running a hand through her damp hair.
Then—her knees nearly buckled.
Jhaeros moved fast, catching her arm before she could hit the ground.
"You're burning up," he said.
"Gee, wonder why," she muttered.
The hallucinogen.
It was out of her system, but the aftereffects of both the drug and her relentless fighting had taken their toll.
"You need rest," Jhaeros said.
Nara scoffed. "We're in the middle of a battle royale. Resting is for corpses."
Velka nudged her leg.
Jhaeros shook his head. "No. Resting is for those who plan to make it to the next round."
Nara grunted but didn't argue.
She was exhausted.
And right now, they needed to regroup.
Jhaeros turned his attention back to the elf.
The man was still on the ground, coughing, his swollen face barely recognizable.
"You're lucky," Jhaeros told him.
The elf let out a weak, bitter laugh. "D-doesn't feel like it..."
Jhaeros glanced at Nara.
She still looked like she wanted to break him in half.
He sighed.
"Leave. Before she changes her mind."
The elf staggered to his feet and hobbled away without another word.
Nara crossed her arms, watching him disappear into the trees.
"Should've broken his legs."
Jhaeros grinned. "You have an interesting definition of 'mercy.'"
She smirked. "And yet, I'm still alive."
Just as they were about to move, a blinding light erupted from the direction of the mountain.
The entire battlefield was bathed in its glow, a brilliant flash of energy illuminating the artificial biomes.
Nara and Jhaeros both turned toward the sight.
Jhaeros narrowed his eyes. "That has to be—"
"Kalem," Nara finished.
She let out a breath, shaking her head.
"Of course it's him."
Jhaeros frowned. "I just hope he didn't break something important this time."
Velka growled, ears twitching toward the mountain.
Something big was happening.
And they needed to find out what.