Vayra’s next fight was not against Varion, as she expected. When the doors opened, depositing her and her opponent in the arena, she was facing Larra.

A soft, “Oh,” was all she could muster.

But she’d prepared for this. She’d trained, and she’d practiced her internal Ward. Her disruption runestone clung to the top of her mechanical hand, and her core was full of mana.

And she wasn’t Myrrir.

Vayra marched across the arena to the center, drawing as close as she could. Larra still wore her coat. Overtop, the artifact, the tooth of her wolf, hung. It’d still function to raise the grade of her Arcara, but Gnasher was gone.

Only now did Vayra understand that she hadn’t just killed Larra’s pet, she’d also killed the woman’s companion beast for her advancement to Grand Admiral. Larra would have to settle for a water plume, just like the rest of her brethren.

When Vayra reached the center of the arena, she stood only a few paces away from Larra. There was nothing else she could do except offer a small wave and say, “Hi. Long time no see.”

Larra pulled her three-part staff off her shoulder and whipped it into place, filling the gaps between the three sections with water. “You killed my dog.”

“You were trying to capture me and subject me to a lifetime of torment.”

“I was only doing as I was told. But now, it’s personal.”

“Apologies, then,” Vayra said. “But your wolf was also trying to kill me.”

“No more talking. We fight now.”

Vayra winced. “I’m waiting for the trumpet to go.”

“I—”

Before Larra could let off another threat, the trumpet did sound. The God-heir charged immediately, without speaking another word.

Vayra ducked to the side and Moulded her scythe, then intercepted the next strike. Larra gripped her tooth pendant with one hand and activated it, and her spirit flared to the strength of a Grand Admiral—maybe something a little higher.

But, without the help of a spirit beast, she wasn’t a true Grand Admiral.

Vayra used the Mediator form to match her, raising the strength of her own Arcara, but blazing quickly. She and Phasoné shared wills, but now that their strength was closer, now that she was an Admiral, she picked out her own will much easier. The Goddess was present, but she wanted to win just as much as Vayra did. She wanted to crush Larra.

There was no dissonance, nothing.

But Vayra would burn out her mana sooner than Larra would, unless Larra herself used a mana-intensive technique. But even then, almost everything Vayra had was perfect for a burst of offense, not a drawn out fight.

But it didn’t look like Larra was in the mood for a drawn-out fight.

The woman charged, spinning her staff in one hand and holding out the other. The tips of her fingers glowed bright blue with the concentration of mana and Arcara flowing through them, and Vayra’s blood swirled, then slowed, then tried to rebel.

It tried to burst out of her vessels and veins, to turn to spears and rip her apart from the inside. Nothing about it was elegant; it was a hammer for smashing an opponent with.

“I don’t care if you live past the first round,” Larra sneered, “or if it dishonours me. I am the executor of Karmion’s will, the doer of his dirty work. But moreover, I will just enjoy watching you burst into a cloud of blood.”

A spear of clear liquid shot out from Vayra’s flesh-and-blood bicep and harpooned through her skin before she wrenched her Arcara under control and activated her internal Warding.

Instead of resisting the blood magic and hardening herself against it, she phased right through it, unperturbed by its pull.

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Larra’s eyes widened, but she gripped her staff with both hands and blocked Vayra’s next blow. Water whirled around the outer layer of her staff, pushing back against the blade of Vayra’s scythe—until Vayra activated her runestone, directing out a pulse of disruption in Larra’s direction and dispersing the Ward.

Her scythe bashed against the staff, leaving a molten gash across the metal and sending Larra spinning to the ground. The back of Larra’s staff whirled up and caught Vayra on the back of the head. Vayra Warded her hair with a regular shield, preventing damage, but the impact still flung her across the arena and sent her sprawling across the sand.

She directed her Arcara to her wounded arm. There was no better time to test out the healing capabilities of her Admiral body.

With the help of the Mediator Form, her skin visibly knitted itself together, far faster than normal.

But Larra was already charging. She used a full-body Bracing technique, too, and a plume of water and sandy dust rose behind her.

Vayra jumped back to her feet and activated the Astral Shroud, then ducked under a staff swipe. She punched the flailing, loose end of the three-part staff with her mechanical hand and activated the runestone. So close to the staff, it severed the watery connection entirely and sent the section of the staff tumbling across the dirt.

Again, Vayra’s blood swirled, and Larra tried to manipulate her blood, but with her Wards already active, Vayra sailed right through it, unperturbed.

She and Larra traded blows. From a distance, it probably looked like a simple flash, taking place over only a few seconds, but tens of punches flew. Starlight Palms cracked out into the open air and whips of water splashed against the sand. Scythe grated against staff, and a cloud of mist arose around them.

With her speed, Vayra evaded most of Larra’s strikes, and even landed a few of her own, though they did very little damage. When she pulled out her pistol alongside her scythe to funnel energy through it, Larra targeted it, noting it as a stronger threat. She pushed through a barrage of scythe slashes and snatched up the pistol, then threw it across the arena—out of Vayra’s grasp. With a kick, she flung Vayra across the arena in the opposite direction, then hoisted the fallen half of her staff and reattached it.

But Vayra still had the scythe to do damage. She’d need perfectly placed blows and an opening.

Phasoné subconsciously delivered a warning, and Vayra barely registered receiving it in the Mediator Form. But she recognized the content: she’d burned halfway through her mana, and she was nowhere close to winning.

Larra jumped across the arena and slammed her staff down on Vayra’s flesh arm. Muscle split and bone fractured, and Vayra grit her teeth. But the arm was still attached. The directed energy right into the bone—enough to heal it and hold herself together.

She drew on Adair out of the corespace, then formed a stable cycling loop within him, drawing on his reflexes twice as efficiently as before. Where before, it felt like she was only improving her reflexes and dexterity, now it felt like she was borrowing them entirely from a cat. As soon as Larra’s muscles twitched, Vayra instinctively knew where to bend to dodge the coming blow.

Up, down, circle around, whirl the scythe. No matter what, Larra didn’t land a strike, and Vayra slipped in closer. With a spin to build power, she swatted the three-part staff out of Larra’s hands, then brought the scythe blade back in the opposite direction, aiming a blow that’d either force Larra to surrender or kill her.

Her arms stalled at their peak, unable to bring the scythe down for a killing blow.

Larra held her hands out toward Vayra. Both her palms glowed blue with Arcara, and her fingers burned as bright as a star. She shouted and widened her stance.

Vayra activated her spiritual sight. Tendrils of Arcara raced out Larra’s hands and enveloped Vayra, forming a blood-manipulating layer outside Vayra’s skin. It pressed inward, overpowering Vayra’s Wards and catching her blood in a tight grasp.

A contest of wills, then.

Vayra shut her eyes and concentrated. She didn’t need the Astral Shroud, so instead she turned it toward the Burnished Flame Loop, concentrating and forcing her will to her core, then infusing all her Arcara with it.

Larra engaged a similar cycling pattern, one for the purification of mana, though it wasn’t exactly the same. Still, it’d draw on a will just the same, and it helped Larra concentrate hers just the same as Vayra.

“You think you can overwhelm me?” Larra shouted. “I am a God-heir, a daughter of Karmion! I have spent more time training than you’ve spent breathing! You cannot compare to me…you Discarded scum! I want this victory!”

Vayra shut her eyes. It came down to who wanted the victory more. That was it. She concentrated on her own mind and memories, on her past in Tavelle. Sleeping in the cold gutters, running from Helpers, starving.

“You don’t want it more than me,” Vayra whispered. “You don’t want it enough. You wouldn’t understand. No one wants it more than me. I need to succeed. Only when you are nothing can you truly understand the need to become more.”

Her internal Ward broke through, and her arms began to shift, bring the scythe down for a finishing blow, but Larra still resisted.

“No!” she yelled. “No! I—”

Vayra’s Ward flared. It wasn’t just strong because it burned witht he power of the stars. She passed through objects because the night sky…it wasn’t just about stars. There was a darkness, a void there too.

The emptiness of the internal Ward seeped out, infecting Larra’s Arcara and imploding it, drawing it away and making it impossibly empty.

The blood manipulation technique shattered, and Vayra’s scythe fell. She stopped a half-inch from Larra’s neck.

“Do it!” Larra snarled. “End me!”

“Surrender,” Vayra and Phasoné said at the same time, their voices merging and speaking as one.

“No.” Larra made two fists and conjured a gauntlet of water over each of them. She wouldn’t let it go more than one round.

Vayra pulled the scythe in an inch, then dragged the blade across Larra’s throat. The woman collapsed, dead.