Leo's body hadn't moved since Ragnar's final, crushing blow. The weight of silence in the underground arena stretched far too long before the medics hurriedly dragged him from the pit. No one, not even Ragnar, looked particularly interested in whether he was alive or dead. The match was over. That was all that mattered here.
I could tell that the sheer brutality of it hadn't done anything to ease the nerves of my team. Milan and Anthony had paled slightly, their expressions forcibly neutral, but I saw the tension in their jaws. The girls weren't faring much better. Sienna's fingers clutched the fabric of her dress, and Camille, though still wearing her teasing smirk, had lost the relaxed ease in her posture. Even Alexis, usually the most composed, was gripping her arms tighter than usual, her sharp eyes flitting between Vincent Giovanni and the next competitors, likely gauging the mafia boss's reaction.
He remained unmoved. Vincent leaned back in his chair, watching the arena with an almost casual amusement. This was entertainment to him. A sport. A game.
The next match was set.
Dani "Siren" Castro vs. Vera "The Widow" Duvall.
I activated Scan as the two women stepped into the pit.
Name: Dani "Siren" Castro
Job: Occult Practitioner (A-Rank)
Disarming Presence (Lv. 7): Opponents experience brief hesitation upon first engaging, reducing their immediate aggression.
Rhythmic Evasion (Lv. 6): Enhanced ability to move fluidly, dodging strikes with deceptive grace.
Seductive Misdirection (Lv. 7): Subtle feints and false intentions disrupt the opponent's sense of timing.
Venomous Counter (Lv. 6): Increased effectiveness of counterattacks when opponent overcommits.
Name: Vera "The Widow" Duvall
Job: Executioner (A-Rank)
Killing Intent (Lv. 7): Opponents feel an instinctual dread, reducing their ability to anticipate her attacks.
Viper Reflexes (Lv. 8): Heightened reaction speed, allowing her to capitalize on the smallest mistakes.
Death's Patience (Lv. 7): Increases efficiency when waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Precision Strikes (Lv. 7): Attacks target nerve clusters and weak points with surgical accuracy.
The difference between them was immediate. Dani exuded an effortless charm, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers as she smirked at Vera. Her movements were fluid, light on her feet, each step part of an intricate dance. Vera, in contrast, was stillness personified—waiting, watching, coiled like a predator measuring the distance to its prey.
The moment the buzzer sounded, Dani struck first.
She moved in a blur, weaving through the space with an agility that made her feel untouchable. She feinted left, then spun right, forcing Vera to adjust. A sharp kick snapped toward Vera's side. It should have landed. It didn't.
Vera barely moved—just a slight shift, enough to avoid the impact without wasting unnecessary energy. Dani didn't falter, immediately launching into another series of quick jabs, each one forcing Vera further back. The crowd murmured in approval. Dani was fast, and she knew it.
Vera, however, didn't react. Didn't attack. Just watched.
And that was dangerous.
Dani noticed too late.
The moment she overextended on a particularly sharp jab, Vera moved. It was like a whip crack—silent, sudden, and devastating.
Her fingers wrapped around Dani's extended wrist, twisting with precision. A sharp cry tore from Dani's lips as her arm was yanked downward. Vera's knee crashed into her stomach before she was flung to the ground, rolling from the impact.
Dani scrambled to her feet, gasping, but the playfulness in her expression was gone. She was watching Vera now with real focus, real wariness.
"Alright, ice queen," Dani muttered, rolling her shoulder. "Didn't take you for the hands-on type."
Vera said nothing. Just tilted her head slightly, expression unreadable.
Dani tried again, but this time with more caution. She circled, using Seductive Misdirection to bait a reaction—flicking her eyes one way, shifting her weight another, testing Vera's instincts. It was a mind game, a trick designed to get her opponent to flinch.
Vera didn't fall for it.
Instead, she punished it.
The second Dani made her true move—a sweeping kick toward Vera's knee—Vera snapped forward. Viper Reflexes took over. She dodged with minimal effort, grabbing Dani's leg mid-motion, and twisted it viciously. Dani barely avoided a full break as she spun with the momentum, rolling out of Vera's grip before rising unsteadily.
This wasn't a fight she could win through feints alone. Dani knew that now.
She adjusted, breathing heavy, and adopted a different stance—lower, more defensive. When Vera moved in this time, Dani reacted sharper, dodging narrowly, countering when she could. A solid elbow managed to graze Vera's ribs, and Dani pressed forward. Venomous Counter kicked in. She turned her dodge into a spinning strike toward Vera's temple.
Vera stumbled slightly. Not much, but enough for the audience to react. Dani smirked, pressing her advantage, delivering another quick jab followed by a fierce knee to Vera's stomach. The tide was shifting.
And then Vera smiled.
Not a smirk. Not a sneer. A genuine, cold, satisfied smile.
Dani's face barely had time to register concern before Vera's hand snapped up, fingers pressing into the side of her neck. A precise nerve strike. Dani's body locked up for half a second—long enough for Vera to drive a palm directly into her sternum with enough force to send her staggering backward.
The charm, the grace, the elegance—none of it mattered now.
Vera pressed forward, every attack calculated. A step, a twist, a strike—each movement wasting no excess energy. Dani tried to retaliate, but she was reacting now, not leading. Vera controlled the fight completely, dictating the pace, and Dani had no space to recover.
A brutal kick to the ribs sent Dani crumpling to one knee. She gasped, but before she could move, Vera was behind her, an arm wrapping around her throat in a flawless chokehold.
The arena was silent. Dani clawed at Vera's arm, struggling, but Vera's grip was steel.
Her Killing Intent flared, pressing down on Dani like a suffocating weight.
She wasn't just holding her. She was letting Dani feel, in those final moments, that she had lost.
Dani's hands wavered. Her breaths came shallower. Her vision blurred.
And finally, after an agonizing pause, she tapped the floor twice.
Despite this, Vera didn't release her. She waited and waited, until eventually foam came our of Dani's mouth. She let her fall forward onto her hands, her eyes out cold. She didn't even spare Dani a glance before turning and walking away.
"Winner—Vera 'The Widow' Duvall!"
The crowd erupted in cheers, but my focus remained on Dani. She was alive...I think, her team came and started doing chest compression in an attempt to save her life.
Vera had made her point.
There were fighters in this tournament who played for blood.
And there were those who played for the inevitable.