There was no time to wonder how he was supposed to fight a giant eel, no time to try and plan. Jay had to fight. The eel slithered through the air, its long tail coiled and whirled. The air distorted in its wake, as if the beast’s very being defied the natural order. It inched its way towards Jay's corner. Hunting him down.

But Jay was no mere prey, paralysed by fear before the eel could even touch him. His fists had already fended off one creature of the deep today. They could do it again.

The millisecond the eel entered his range Jay launched a right straight at its face. There was no need to jab now, no need to establish range. Jay needed power. His fist knocked the eels head sideways, but it quickly coiled underneath itself and looked back at Jay. Bewilderment clouded its eyes; it had probably never been punched in the face before.

Confusion made way for anger however, and it darted straight at Jay's chest. He circled left, as he’d done millions of times before, but Jay had never fought against an eel before. The eel twisted on the spot, turning faster than any human could, and cut off Jay's angle. Jay stopped immediately. Only his opponents gaping jaw awaited him in that direction now.

He switched angles, trying to dodge to the right instead. Jay strained his legs to decelerate, desperately halting his advance, his boots squeaked against the stone underneath the pressure. But there was a big issue with fighting a two-metre-long opponent. It could cover far more ground than Jay could. Immediately to his right was the eel’s tail, swinging directly towards him.

Jay raised his arms, turtling up to protect his head. The tail impacted hard, but he’d been through worse, Jay was more worried about the follow up.

A follow up that never came.

Jay expected the eel to electrocute him, but its tail simply hit him and slid off. It looked like the eel expected that too. Jay saw the confused look return to his opponents face as he twisted and backpedalled into the centre of the ring.

Maybe I’m resistant to electricity now? But how, I didn’t train for it?

I didn’t train for any of the other stuff I did either.

Doubt clouded a fighter’s focus. Jay set aside all his questions for later and concentrated on the fight in front of him. If he didn’t get shocked by the eel’s tail, how could he use that to his advantage?

Jay took the initiative this time, trying to corner his opponent. It was practically the first rule of boxing, if your opponent had an advantage, try to nullify it. If they were longer or faster than you, put them in a place where they can’t use their length or speed. Put them in the corner. Jay had experience getting out of a corner, every slugger he’d ever fought had tried to keep him there. But he was damn sure the eel hadn’t fought a guy like him before. Especially if he was resistant to the electric shocks.

Jay advanced, a seasoned ring general leading the charge. The eel squirmed, heading left, and being cut off. Coiling onto itself and then snaking right, but only coming face to face with its opponent. Jay allowed himself a moment of pleasure. Maybe his boxing skills were more transferable than he thought.

Then the eel gave him a taste of the real world.

With all due respect to overhands and uppercuts, boxing is fought in two dimensions. Left, right, forwards, and backwards. The flying eel floated above Jay, and he was quickly and humbly reminded that the rest of the universe fought in three.

From almost directly above him, the eel darted towards Jay's face. Jay twisted his body, but he couldn’t twist faster than the eel. It charged into Jay's shoulder, narrowly missing his head but knocking his whole body off balance. Its tail followed through. Whipping at Jay's jaw while the rest of the body soared past.

The one-two combo floored Jay. His base was already weakened from the first strike, so the tail didn’t need to generate much power to send Jay to his back.

From the ground, Jay scrambled to return to his feet, but his opponent wouldn’t let him. It floated, permanently a metre or so above Jay and threatened to bite him the moment he gave it an opening. Scuppering any attempt of getting to his feet. Jay had to make it up, there was no way for him to win from the floor, so he resolved to take a hit if it meant standing up again.

The next time the eel dove in, Jay launched a punch at it. There was no venom behind the punch, it wasn’t meant to damage. Jay just needed to generate space. Jay pushed the eel’s head away, and used the half second gained to get to one knee. He braced for the second strike, covering his head with his arm. When the tail hit him, Jay would roll with the blow, and use the momentum gained to get upright.

He would’ve got to his feet, if a few thousand volts didn’t have other plans.

The mere concept of muscular control fled Jay’s body once the eel hit him. Every muscle in Jay's body pulled taut, he had all the agency of a wooden board as he clattered into the corner of the ring.

The world lurched around Jay, colours and shadows warped into dizzying spirals as his eyesight followed his muscles in going haywire.

Knocked into the corner of a stone cage, with a giant floating sea creature hunting him. It was through pure desperation that Jay managed to take a knee and stand up before his opponent reached him.

He didn’t have time to think about what had just hit him. Thoughts wouldn’t help him now anyway.

The eel was already upon him. It charged headfirst at Jay's chest. He knew this attack was the decoy, that the real danger was the electrocuting tail. But that didn’t mean he could ignore it.

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Jay raised both his arms into a cross guard. He needed to resist the push of the first attack and redirect his opponent. Maybe then he’d have a chance at dodging the second.

The opening bludgeon struck. Jay got a good enough grip on the eel’s face to keep it from biting him, but it still pushed him back. The heel of Jay's boot brushed against the wall. Nowhere to back up now. Jay pushed the giant eel’s head off to his side, but he needed to shift gears quickly, the tail was coming.

Jay tried to duck. Anything to get out of the firing line. But the eel was simply too long. It noticed him duck and shifted its tail downwards. Jay braced. Maybe he could take the electric shock. One hit would hurt him, sure, but if he was floored again, he might never get up. The tail hit him. No shock, but it still hurt like hell. The whipping tail caught the bottom of Jay's ribs and dug directly into his core. It pushed him backwards, then the electricity struck.

Another agonizing eternity hit Jay. The stone wall he leant on the only think that kept him from falling.

As all his muscles spasmed simultaneously, Jay didn’t even know what kept him conscious.

Once more, Jay's entire body devolved into madness. Jay could taste the warmth of his pain; he could see his anger screaming at him. All senses mixed into blackness in the end. Curtains of nothingness closed in from his periphery.

THUD.

…

THUD.

…

No.

THUD.

Not yet.

This time it wasn’t the towers pulse. It was his own. Darkness made way for reality as Jay's heartbeat reintroduced oxygen to his brain.

THUD. THUD.

He’d gotten close that time, one more shock could finish him.

Why is the shocking so inconsistent? Jay thought. Coming to his senses as he pushed off the wall. The eel had given him a bit of space, a mistake. It probably thought he was dead. It came rushing back after it saw Jay up and running. Jay’s boots squeaked as he escaped the corner, trying to buy himself some time.

Wait.

In that moment, Jay felt grateful to the storm sage, or whichever kind soul had brought his backpack to the top of the tower. He felt immensely fortunate that his father and brother were boxers. Fortunate that they led him to become a boxer too, rather than a wrestler, kickboxer, or any other martial artist.

Because boxers wore shoes. And those shoes had rubber soles.

The only reason the electric shock didn’t work the first time, was because he was insulated from the ground. The only reason it hit him late the third time, was because the tail launched him into the wall.

Every fight was a puzzle, and each fighter held half the pieces. But throughout the fight, if they were observant enough, a good fighter caught glimpses of his opponent’s pieces. And bit by bit, piece by piece, they could begin to solve the puzzle.

You didn’t need to complete the puzzle, but you needed enough to know what it was. Enough to know how the fight could end. The eel had just handed Jay a crucial piece, and it was only going to get worse.

Fighting an intelligent fighter fucking sucks. Most fighters aren’t the smartest, it comes with the territory of getting beat up for a living. Smart people tend to avoid that line of work. But occasionally, you come up against a genius, a savant, a prodigy.

Occasionally you come up against someone like Jay.

The worst thing about fighting an intelligent fighter isn’t that they outsmart you, or that they out-plan you. Or anything like that.

The absolute worst thing is that you can never, ever, under any circumstances, give them an edge. Because they will use it. They will abuse it. They will take anything and everything they can and use it to win.

Jay had just discovered that he didn’t need to fear the eel’s electric shock, unless he was touching the tower. This didn’t turn the fight on its head, but it gave Jay an inch.

And he was about to take a fucking mile.

Jay claimed the rings centre. This was his ring, his tower, and he’d be damned if a stupid floating fish beat him in it.

What even are eels anyway? Be a fish or be a snake. You can’t choose both.

The stupid fish-snake hybrid came flying right at him. Jay pulled up the same cross guard as before, hopefully his opponent hadn’t made the same realisation he had. He braced for impact and deflected the head off to the side again.

This time he didn’t duck. He had nothing to fear. Jay held his hands outstretched, one trying to catch the tail, the other grasping for the main body. His hands found purchase. Jay tried to dig his nails in, but they couldn’t pierce the eel’s skin. The beast flailed in his grip, wildly twisting and turning until it ripped its way out of Jay's hands. He’d held it for less than a second, but Jay could sense his opponents fear.

Mucus caked Jay's hands. He wiped them off on his Flaming Tomb robes, but it was hard to get all of it off. The clear gooey liquid even stuck to the underside of Jay's nails. As he tried to clean himself, Jay could feel the eel’s anxious stare. It was afraid. Had no one tried to grab it before?

Another piece clicked into place.

Jay could see the cogs turning inside the simplistic creature’s mind. He could see its fear, its confusion, its anger.

It dove at him again. Jay dodged forward, again grabbing the eels face with one hand and its tail with the other. This time its skin felt different, slightly drier, slightly grippier. Again, the eel squirmed its way out of Jay's hands, but it took at least three seconds this time. Jay wiped off his hands again. He knew he could catch it.

In twenty-five fights in the boxing ring, and one in the coliseum, Jay had only been the stronger fighter a handful of times. He almost didn’t know what it felt like. Almost. Because he definitely knew it right now. The eel’s slimy coat was the only thing that let it escape, and with each attempt Jay got rid of more and more of it.

Jay's lips twisted into a cruel sneer. The kind of maniacal grin reserved only for revenge. He didn’t feel an ounce of guilt or sympathy for his opponent. Jay's cold emotionless grey eyes locked onto the eel’s.

He didn’t see malice anymore. He only saw desperation.

Has an electric eel ever shocked itself before?

Jay marched forward, arms outstretched, ready to end the fight.

The eel squirmed, folding in on itself, becoming as small as possible. It didn’t matter. Jay was inevitable. It darted to Jay's side, but a lighting fast left was there to greet it in a far from loving embrace. Jay's lead hand clamped on the eel like a vice, and his right soon followed. It thrashed against Jay's grip, but it was hopeless. Jay's fingers were entrenched in the eel’s skin, his nails pierced its scales through pure brute force.

He walked over to the nearest wall, refusing to let the eel slip from his hands. Jay didn’t know whether the eel’s electric shock would even activate when itself was at risk.

But the best fighters always had contingencies. Even if they weren’t the prettiest.

The eel had all but given up on escaping Jay, only meekly flopping against his grip. Jay stopped walking, inches from the wall. He twisted left. He wound up, remembering his final punch against the underwater tendril. This wouldn’t be that powerful, but Jay knew a way to make up for that. He twisted. Slamming his left hand, and the eels face, directly into the wall.

Jay felt a tickle of electricity, but it was nothing like before. He wasn’t done. He twisted again. Coiling like a spring. He slammed the eel into the wall again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Jay didn’t even think. He didn’t need to. He just hit.

Jay didn’t stop until the only thing left of the eel’s head was a red puddle at his feet. Jay dropped the remains of his opponent’s body into the remains of his opponent’s head. He silently made his way into the ring’s centre and lay down.

The tower could get fucked. The blue screens could get fucked. The storm sage could get absolutely fucked. After going through all that shit, Jay needed a fucking nap.