From the stadium stands, Thamuz’s family watched with growing concern as the combat took an unexpected turn.

“That stance, that combat stance, I remember it very well,” said Tawnylon, his voice filled with astonishment. His eyes, usually calm, now reflected a rare unease.

Armesto, seated next to him, crossed his arms and furrowed his brow, his expression a mask of worry. “It seems to be the nilux, though I thought it had been extinct since the war of the seven bleeding moons,” he remarked, his voice low but tense.

“I thought so too,” Tawnylon responded, mimicking Armesto’s posture. “But it seems that when Zarakel wants to find something, he really does stop at nothing. His determination has always been... unsettling.”

Narek, seated next to his father, listened to the conversation with growing curiosity and concern. His eyes darted between the fight in the arena and the tense faces of the adults. Finally, unable to contain his curiosity, he asked:

“What combat style are you talking about?” His voice trembled slightly, reflecting the anxiety he felt at seeing his friend in alot of trouble.

Armesto slowly turned his head to look at his son. His eyes, usually hard, softened at the sight of the worry on Narek's face. He took a deep breath before answering:

“The shamonak has always been a prosperous combat style in our civilization,” he began, his voice taking on a didactic tone. “But it was only meant for people born with strong, well-adapted bodies. So, those who were considered weak devised their own combat styles. Many failed and were completely dominated by the shamonak, but one style in particular emerged: the nilux.”

“The nilux?” Narek repeated, confusion clear in his voice. “I’ve never heard of that combat style.”

Tawnylon intervened, his gaze fixed on the arena as he spoke: “The nilux focused on training the most vulnerable parts of the body: the hands and feet, primarily the fingers,” he explained, raising his own hand to illustrate. “The few times I’ve seen the nilux in action, it showed its true strength. The power and precision of its attacks were strong enough to penetrate the muscle of an experienced shamonak fighter. That’s why it earned a reputation for hunting down fighters of our style.”

A heavy silence fell over the group as they processed this information. Narek, wide-eyed, looked back at the arena where his brother was fighting.

“And now Thamuz is facing what might be his natural predator,” Narek said, his voice barely a whisper, filled with dread.

“Yes,” confirmed Tawnylon, his voice momentarily muted. But then, as if a spark ignited within him, he added with renewed strength, “But Thamuz has taken worse hits in his life. My son is stronger than any of us can imagine.”

Suddenly, Tawnylon rose from his seat, his imposing figure drawing the attention of the nearby spectators. He raised his fist into the air, his voice resonating throughout the arena:

“Come on, son, defeat that bastard!” he shouted with all the strength of his lungs, his cry filled with pride and defiance.

In the arena, Thamuz remained on the ground, his gaze fixed on the blood flowing from the gaps left by Bhaxmunt’s attack. Pain pulsed in his foot, a constant reminder of his opponent’s lethality.

Bhaxmunt, with a sardonic smile, raised his index and middle fingers in a mocking gesture. “Come on, get up. You won’t make it that fun like this,” he said, his voice dripping with barely contained sadism.

Without taking his eyes off his adversary, Thamuz grabbed a handful of dirt from the ground. With deliberate movements, he mixed it with his own blood and applied it to the wound, pressing hard to form an improvised bandage. The pain was intense, but his face remained impassive.

Slowly, Thamuz stood up, limping slightly. He raised his arms and lowered his upper body, adopting a posture that suggested another charge. However, this time it was Bhaxmunt who took the initiative.

With superhuman speed, Bhaxmunt lunged at Thamuz. The young warrior tried to counter with an open-palm strike, but Bhaxmunt, moving with a supernatural agility, ducked at the last moment. His fingers, sharp as daggers, pierced through Thamuz’s ribs with terrifying precision.

A sharp pain, more intense than anything Thamuz had ever experienced, exploded in his side. Instinctively, he threw a downward punch, like a hammer seeking to crush his enemy. But Bhaxmunt was no longer there, having leaped back with supernatural grace.

“How does it feel?” Bhaxmunt asked, his voice brimming with perverse pleasure. “It’s like being pierced by a spear, isn’t it?”

Thamuz brought his hand to his ribs, feeling the deep hollow left by the attack. He could feel his own bones under his fingers, a sensation that churned his stomach. He looked up, his eyes burning with barely contained fury.

“Are you going to keep this up?” Thamuz growled, frustration evident in his voice. “Attacking me and running?”

Bhaxmunt smiled, licking Thamuz’s blood from his fingers in a gesture that made several spectators look away, disgusted. “Of course, after all, I want your suffering to last,” he responded with an almost melodic tone, as if he were enjoying a particularly entertaining show.

The sight of Bhaxmunt delighting in his blood ignited something primal in Thamuz. Without thinking, without preparing any combat stance, he charged at his opponent with brutal, blind force.

Bhaxmunt, however, was ready. At the last moment, he sidestepped with fluid grace, allowing Thamuz to rush past, nearly falling out of the arena.

“What did I say about attacking like that?” Bhaxmunt said, his voice now tinged with false concern that only served to fuel Thamuz’s anger.

Thamuz slowly regained his balance, his breathing heavy and labored. When he turned to face Bhaxmunt, his gaze had changed. The rage and annoyance were still there, burning in his eyes, but now there was something more. A spark of knowledge, a glimmer of understanding that hadn’t been there before.

Thamuz let out a guttural growl and lunged at Bhaxmunt with the ferocity of a hungry predator. Bhaxmunt, with irritation and focus on his face, exhaled a barely audible sigh and dodged the attack with supernatural grace. His movement was so fluid it seemed he danced between shadows.

Taking advantage of the opening, Bhaxmunt prepared to sink his sharp fingers into Thamuz’s abdomen. However, his opponent, showing surprising agility for someone his size, moved with lightning speed. Bhaxmunt’s attack, instead of finding fresh flesh, struck the wound previously inflicted on Thamuz’s ribs.

Aware of the unexpected shift, Bhaxmunt leaped back with an acrobatic jump, his eyes scrutinizing every move of his opponent. Thamuz, on the other hand, fell to one knee, his right hand pressing the freshly aggravated wound. The blood, a dark crimson almost black, gushed between his fingers like a macabre geyser.

“Well, well... Looks like I’ve found your weak spot,” declared Thamuz, a crooked smile forming on his cracked lips.

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“Weak spot?” Bhaxmunt retorted, his voice dripping with disdain. “I have none. Besides, who’s on their knees and who’s still standing?” he added, attempting to humiliate his rival.

Thamuz, far from feeling intimidated, let out a laugh that echoed in the stale air surrounding them. “True, but I noticed something fascinating. Your fingers can pierce my muscles like butter, but when I examined the wound on my ribs, I could see the bone... intact.” His eyes gleamed with a mix of pain and excitement. “That led me to an interesting theory: you can pierce the muscle, but what about the bones? Are your fingers sharp enough to break them?

Bhaxmunt's confidence wavered for a moment. "What exactly do you mean?"

"Well, considering your height," Thamuz continued, slowly rising like a wounded but dangerous beast, "I estimate you're about two meters tall. Your fingers are long enough to have pierced my ribs if they had the ability. But they couldn't. That suggests to me a potential weakness: the inability to penetrate bone tissue."

Bhaxmunt, trying to maintain his composure, let out a forced laugh. "So what? Do you plan to tear out all your bones to face me? That only shows how absurd your reasoning is."

Thamuz's eyes gleamed with a sinister light, and a sadistic smile spread across his bloodied face. "You'll see... Just come closer," he whispered, his voice loaded with an implicit threat that made the air between them dense and heavy.

Meanwhile, in the stands, Tawnylon observed with analytical eyes the strategy Thamuz had adopted. His gaze missed none of the combat's details.

"So the nilux is weak against bones," Tawnylon murmured, thoughtfully stroking his chin. "That's why Bhaxmunt only attacked vital points instead of areas with more robust bones, like the forehead or forearms. Fascinating."

Armesto, sitting next to him, leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with interest. "Moreover, Thamuz has the size advantage, surpassing Bhaxmunt by about thirty centimeters. Although it doesn't seem like much, in a fight like this, it could change everything. His bones are wider and longer, and his body is capable of withstanding considerable physical punishment."

In the arena, the fight intensified. Bhaxmunt, driven by desesperation, lunged at Thamuz. His hands, with fingers as sharp as daggers, sought to penetrate his opponent's defense. However, Thamuz, displaying surprising agility for his size, leaned back, dodging the attack by mere millimeters.

Taking advantage of Bhaxmunt's missed strike, Thamuz counterattacked with brutal precision. His hand, open like a claw, struck Bhaxmunt's chest with devastating force. The blow echoed in the arena like thunder.

Bhaxmunt was sent flying, rolling across the dusty ground until he lay on his back. The impact from Thamuz's attack had left him dazed, his vision blurred, and he could only perceive a menacing shadow rising over him.

With superhuman effort, Bhaxmunt managed to regain visual clarity just in time to see Thamuz preparing to pounce on him. In an act of desperation and cunning, Bhaxmunt reacted with lightning speed. Using one of his toes like a living sword, he stabbed Thamuz's knee.

Thamuz's scream of pain echoed in the arena, a scream that could broke the soul. Bhaxmunt took advantage of that moment to get up quickly, though not without consequences. Upon examining his foot, he noticed the toe he had used for the attack was bruised and sore, making it difficult for him to walk.

Thamuz, visibly limping from the blow, flashed a crooked smile. "The knee is also a very hard place to be pierced by your fingers, isn't it, Bhaxmunt?" he said, his voice showing pain and satisfaction. "It seems we've both learned something new today."

"Don't get cocky just because you managed to hit me a couple of times," Bhaxmunt spat, his voice filled with restrained anger. "I still have several techniques up my sleeve. I can't allow you to adapt to my fighting style."

Thamuz frowned, confused. "Adapt? What do you mean?"

Bhaxmunt flashed a sinister smile. "I was in the stands during your fight with Khabixan, studying your every move. Your body adapts depending on your opponent. With Khabixan, he was only playing with you, using a few techniques. That was his fatal mistake. You adapted to his attacks by developing an organic armor similar to scales, neutralizing his blows. But that was because you had enough time to adapt, something I won't allow to happen with me. When I get the chance, I’ll use all my techniques to finish you off."

As he spoke, Bhaxmunt assumed a lower combat stance, his hands now resembling deadly spears. Thamuz, without responding, prepared for any attack, his eyes fixed on his adversary.

Suddenly, Bhaxmunt lunged. Thamuz tried to dodge, but Bhaxmunt, in an unexpected move, stepped back and kicked his side, burying his fingers between Thamuz's ribs.

The pain shot through Thamuz like lightning. He moved his arm frantically, trying to hit Bhaxmunt, but he had already ducked and stabbed the same spot he had just attacked.

Thamuz howled in pain and retreated to one side of the arena, clutching his bleeding wound. Large chunks of flesh had been ripped away. "Damn you..." he whispered to himself, watching the blood flow from his right side.

With fierce determination, Thamuz began approaching Bhaxmunt, whose face now showed utter seriousness, his typical smile completely erased.

In an instant that seemed to last an eternity, Bhaxmunt charged at Thamuz, aiming for his chest. Thamuz tried to grab him, but Bhaxmunt dodged with supernatural agility.

Bhaxmunt crouched, supporting himself on his arms, and delivered a devastating blow with his heel to Thamuz's chin. The impact was so strong that Thamuz was momentarily knocked out.

Bhaxmunt smiled, satisfied with the effectiveness of his strike. However, his smile quickly faded when he saw Thamuz recover almost instantly.

With impressive speed and strength, Thamuz grabbed Bhaxmunt's leg and lifted him into the air as if he weighed nothing. Then, in a brutal move, he slammed him against the arena floor with overwhelming force. The impact was so violent that the ground shattered, raising a cloud of dust and debris.

When the dust cloud cleared, Bhaxmunt lay motionless on the ground, apparently unconscious. However, Thamuz's sharp eyes caught a slight movement in his opponent's fingers. Without hesitation, Thamuz raised his arms, preparing to deliver a final, devastating blow.

But Bhaxmunt, showing superhuman resilience, got up with lightning speed, dodging the attack by mere millimeters. In a fluid and lethal motion, his fingers sliced through the air and Thamuz's flesh, drawing a deadly line from his left shoulder to his right, dangerously close to his neck.

Thamuz staggered back, dazed, as blood poured from the newly opened wound. Bhaxmunt also took a step back, his eyes fixed on his opponent, assessing the damage inflicted.

"My fingers can do more than stab," Bhaxmunt explained with terrifying calm, gently waving his bloodied hand. "They can also cut like the sharpest axe blade."

Thamuz, fighting against the pain and blood loss, staggered to his feet. He moved toward Bhaxmunt with unsteady steps, determination blazing in his eyes despite his apparent weakness.

Bhaxmunt, sensing his opponent's vulnerability, launched an attack. His hand, formed like a lethal spear, aimed directly at Thamuz's neck, seeking the final blow.

But Thamuz, in an act of desperation and cunning, spat blood directly into Bhaxmunt's face. The unexpected attack caused Bhaxmunt to instinctively bring his hands to his face, momentarily blinded by the blood.

Taking advantage of his rival's confusion, Thamuz pounced on Bhaxmunt with a force born of sheer will. He grabbed him by the waist and, in a display of herculean strength, lifted him and slammed him to the ground for the second time.

"That's twice now I've slammed you into the ground," Thamuz panted, his body trembling from the effort. "I hope this time you stay knocked out."

The dust cloud quickly dissipated, revealing Bhaxmunt lying on the ground. But, to everyone's astonishment, he began to rise slowly, limping but still determined.

"I'm going to kill you..." Bhaxmunt whispered, his words laden with cold, calculated fury.

Thamuz watched Bhaxmunt's slow but relentless advance, feeling his own body beginning to fail him. He fell to his knees, his vision blurring.

"What's happening to me?" Thamuz wondered, his voice barely a whisper.

Bhaxmunt, observing Thamuz's weakened state, let out a muted laugh that echoed in the arena. With a nearly casual gesture, he wiped his bloodied hands on his own hair, staining it a dark red.

"Attacking me so recklessly has its consequences," Bhaxmunt said, his voice dripping with disdain. "You've lost too much blood, and your body is paying the price. It was only a matter of time before you felt the effects."

He positioned himself in front of Thamuz, who remained on his knees, vulnerable. Bhaxmunt raised his palm, pointing two fingers toward his opponent's exposed neck. "Now, the fight ends here," he declared with chilling coldness.

Thamuz, feeling the weight of his apparent defeat, closed his eyes and slightly extended his arms, as if accepting his fate. The entire arena held its breath, anticipating the final blow.

Bhaxmunt struck with blinding speed. The sound of bones cracking reverberated in the air, accompanied by a cloud of dust rising from the impact.

But when the dust settled, the scene that unfolded left everyone astonished. Thamuz, in a moment of cunning and desperation, had tilted his head forward, placing his forehead in the path of Bhaxmunt's attack. The attacker's two fingers, instead of piercing Thamuz's neck, had crashed against his frontal bone, breaking in the process.

"Did you forget?" Thamuz said, a triumphant smile forming on his bloodied face. "You’re not able to penetrate my bones."