“Ignis—Break Limit.”

A pulse of power erupted from the panther’s body.

The flames snapped inward, concentrating.

The temperature spiked again.

Bobo—halted.

Something changed.

Was that Dain’s trait ability?

Ignis wasn’t just a fire-type anymore.

Its veins had turned from molten red to white.

Dain exhaled, brushing a hand through his hair.

“Alright, kid.” He cracked his neck. “Now we’re really getting started.”

The air exploded—

And the real battle began.

Bobo was burning.

The heat around him twisted the air, his golden fur singeing at the edges. Every breath scorched his lungs. The battlefield had turned against him, but he didn’t waver. He didn’t step back.

He grinned.

His fangs bared in excitement, his tail twitching with anticipation.

I felt it—through the Harmonic Link, through the raw connection between us.

Bobo wasn’t afraid.

He was thrilled.

His spirit was alight with something deeper than just survival.

He wanted this fight.

I clenched my fists. Then let’s give it everything.

“Adaptive Growth—Activate.”

The energy surged through Bobo’s body. His muscles tensed, shifted. His neurons fired faster.

He was evolving—not in form, but in function.

Dain’s smirk was gone.

His eyes locked onto us, sharp and unreadable. “Ignis—press forward.”

The panther moved.

No more feints. No more testing the waters.

It rushed in like a streak of white fire, its paws leaving molten prints in the stone.

Bobo dodged.

Barely.

Ignis’s fangs snapped inches from his throat.

Then—BOOM.

A sudden explosion of flame erupted from Ignis’s body, a concussive blast that sent Bobo skidding back against the heated ground.

I barely had time to process before Ignis was on him again.

A swipe—dodged.

A bite—countered, barely.

A tail whip—direct hit.

Bobo staggered.

Dain had stopped playing around.

This wasn’t a fire-type beast anymore.

This was a living inferno.

“He’s trying to finish this,” I muttered, eyes narrowing.

The heat was unbearable. The pressure was suffocating.

But Bobo—Bobo was still getting stronger.

His movements sharpened. His instincts refined.

The longer he fought, the more dangerous he became.

Primal Surge. Adrenaline Flow. Adaptive Growth.

The effects were stacking.

But we needed an opening.

Ignis circled, its molten veins pulsing.

Bobo matched its movements.

They weren’t just fighting anymore.

They were hunting each other.

Dain watched, then exhaled. “Alright, then. Ignis—Final Ignition.”

The panther let out a piercing roar.

Then—it exploded.

Not literally.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

But the heat quadrupled in an instant. The ground cracked open beneath it, flames licking upward in twisted spires.

The battlefield was now a furnace.

I saw Bobo grimace. His skin was healing from burns faster than ever, but that didn’t change the fact that he was still burning.

I had to end this.

I tightened my grip on my grimoire.

“Bobo. Follow my lead.”

He didn’t hesitate.

I activated Alpha Pheromones.

Ignis twitched. A moment’s hesitation.

That was all we needed.

Bobo vanished.

Then—he struck.

His fist connected—not with Ignis,

but with the ground.

CRACK.

The heated stone shattered beneath them.

An explosion of debris—smoke—flames—

Right into Ignis’s face, right into the panther’s eyes.

And from within the chaos—

Bobo’s claw found Ignis’s throat.

The battlefield went silent.

Ignis’s molten veins flickered—then dimmed.

A beat of stillness.

Then—the Blazefang Panther collapsed.

Dain exhaled. “Tch…”

Victory.

The air was still thick with heat. The stone beneath our feet was cracked and scorched.

But the fight was over.

Bobo stood tall, his golden fur matted with sweat and ash, but his tail twitched with a satisfied energy.

He wanted more.

I could feel it through our bond.

Dain approached, hands in his pockets, his expression calm but thoughtful. Ignis was behind him, still conscious but lying on its side, flames dimming as it recovered.

He let out a low whistle. “Damn. Your Bobo can really take a beating.”

I smirked, patting Bobo’s head. “Yeah. He’s built different.”

Dain shook his head, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Nah, it’s more than that. Most beasts would’ve backed off, run away from the flames, from the hurt, avoiding the pain. Stopped fighting the moment things got too intense.”

His gaze flickered to Bobo, who was still standing, still ready.

“But that guy?” Dain nodded toward him. “He wanted to fight. Even when the heat turned up, he went in. Even when the flames burned, he attacked. He just—kept going.”

I shrugged. “That’s just Bobo.”

Dain chuckled. “That’s crazy.”

He stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders. “Man… I thought we had you there for a second.”

“You did.” I exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck. “We just didn’t let you keep it.”

Dain snorted. “Fair enough.” He extended a hand. “Good fight, Akul.”

I took it. “You too.”

Bobo and Ignis locked eyes for a brief moment.

A quiet understanding.

Then Bobo, still twitching with energy, just grinned.

Dain laughed. “Yeah. He’s nuts.”

I was still riding the high of the battle—the rush, the way Bobo pushed past his limits, the way we adapted.

“We won.”

But then—

“Did you?”

Rhyzar’s voice cut through my thoughts.

I turned. He was standing there, arms crossed, watching me with that expression of his.

I frowned. “Yeah. We did.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Did you really?”

I blinked. “What—”

He took a step forward, voice calm. Steady. Sharper than before.

“You won a battle. But was it a clean victory?”

I opened my mouth, but he kept going.

“Look at Bobo.”

I turned.

Bobo was still standing, but his body was worn. His fur singed in places—smoke coming from his body; that must have hurt a lot, burns always do. His breath was still coming a little faster than normal. He was healing, yes, but if we had gone any longer—

If there had been another opponent—

Rhyzar spoke again. “You’ve grown. You supported him. You used your abilities. Good. But you still don’t understand the most important thing.”

I frowned. “Which is?”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice slightly.

“You don’t just need to fight.”

I swallowed.

“You need to end the fight.”

I stilled.

Rhyzar’s gaze was steady, drilling into me like he was waiting for something to click.

“Bobo fought well. He adapted. He learned. But tell me—” He gestured at the battlefield. “How many times did you almost win before it actually ended?”

I didn’t answer.

“How many openings did you create—but couldn’t capitalize on?”

The words settled.

The fight replayed in my mind.

Bobo had speed. He had endurance. He had adaptability.

But what he lacked—

Was a decisive move.

A finisher.

A strike that ended the battle the moment we earned that opening.

Rhyzar nodded, seeing the realization settle in.

“Your beast is strong, Akul.” His voice was calm now, almost quiet. “But in a real fight—one decisive move makes the difference between survival and death.”

I exhaled.

I hated that he was right.

Because he was right.

Rhyzar’s eyes didn’t waver.

I clenched my fists.

“You’re focusing on winning,” he continued. “On fighting well. On adapting. That’s good. But it’s not enough.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

Rhyzar crossed his arms. “What happens in a real fight, Akul? What happens when your enemy isn’t fighting for sport, but for your life?”

I swallowed.

He gestured toward Bobo. “The longer a battle lasts, the more risks you take. The more opportunities you give your opponent to turn the tables. Like today.”

I stiffened.

“If you had ended the fight earlier, that trump card wouldn’t have mattered,” he said bluntly. “It wouldn’t have been ‘epic.’ It wouldn’t have been ‘thrilling.’ It wouldn’t have had a dramatic comeback moment.”

He held my gaze.

“But you would’ve won without burning. Without Bobo taking unnecessary damage. Without needing to push yourself to the edge.”

I exhaled.

“Let me put it another way.” He took a step closer. “You don’t fight to win.”

I blinked. “I don’t—?”

“You fight to survive.”

The words hit harder than I expected.

Rhyzar tilted his head. “You can win a battle and still lose everything. Or you can ‘lose’ the battle but still walk away the real victor.” His eyes darkened slightly. “But if you die? That’s it. No more battles. No more victories. No more second chances.”

I gritted my teeth.

“Even with your healing ability,” he continued, “there’s a limit. Your power doesn’t rely on magic—it forces the body to repair itself using its own reserves. That means the more you heal, the more you exhaust your own beast.”

That part stung.

Because I knew he was right.

I had felt it when using Vital Surge. Bobo’s body recovered fast—but it still burned through his stamina.

“The goal isn’t to fight forever, Akul.” Rhyzar’s voice was steady. “The goal is to end the fight as quickly as possible.”

He let that sink in before continuing.

“You need a move that hurts. A move that ends things. A move that makes sure your enemies don’t get a chance to surprise you.”

“You’re thinking it, aren’t you?” His voice was low, almost casual. “That what I’m saying sounds cruel?”

I exhaled through my nose. “…A little.”

He nodded like he expected that. “It is. But that doesn’t make it wrong.”

I stayed silent.

Because he was right.

Again.

Rhyzar stretched his shoulders, exhaling through his nose. “Alright, we’re done here for today.”

I blinked. “That’s it?”

“You sound disappointed.”

I hesitated. After everything—the fights, the adrenaline, the intensity—it felt too soon to just stop.

Rhyzar gave me a knowing look. “Today wasn’t just about fighting, Akul. It was about learning.”

I frowned. “To learn…?”

“For you to see it for yourself.” He smirked. “Your flaws.”

I stiffened.

He gestured toward the arena. “You saw it yourself. The gaps in your fighting style. The weaknesses Bobo has. The risks you take. I wanted you to experience it firsthand—so you’d understand why we’re fixing them.”

I exhaled slowly.

“Tomorrow,” he continued, “we start a new kind of training. One that’s going to push both of you past your limits.”

I frowned. “Bobo and I have already been training hard—”

Rhyzar chuckled. “Oh, I know. But what we’ve been doing? That was the foundation.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” he said, turning toward the exit, “you’ve been playing catch-up. But starting tomorrow? You start forging ahead.”

I swallowed.

“And before you start thinking it’s just Bobo getting the training,” he added, smirking, “let me be clear—you will be training, too.”

I blinked. “Wait, what—?”

Rhyzar clapped a hand on my shoulder, grin widening.

“You didn’t think you’d get to just stand there forever, did you?”