The sound of boos echoes throughout the arena, reverberating off the high stone walls. The jeering is intense, a collective expression of disdain from the crowd as they eagerly await the next spectacle. But the cacophony is cut short by the booming voice of the announcer, his words amplified by the speakers lining the edges of the arena.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer’s voice rings out, commanding the attention of every person in the stands. “The moment you’ve all been waiting for has finally arrived! In this corner, the one who has left a trail of shattered hopes and broken dreams in her wake, the beast of the battlefield, the unyielding force of nature—give it up for Selene Vael!”

The crowd erupts into cheers, the energy shifting instantly from hostile to electrified. All eyes turn toward the stage, where the spotlight blazes brightly. Selene emerges from the shadows, her steps measured and slow, her head bowed slightly as if weighed down by an invisible burden. Despite the timidness in her posture, there is an aura around her—a quiet, lethal intensity that sets the crowd buzzing with anticipation.

Selene’s pale skin almost glows under the stage lights, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall. As she takes her place on the stage, she hesitates for just a moment before raising her eyes to meet the audience’s gaze. A flicker of something—fear, perhaps—flashes in her eyes before she quickly lowers them again, taking a deep breath.

“And her opponent!” the announcer continues, the excitement in his voice growing. “The newcomer who has yet to prove his worth, Xavier...from Invictardor!”

The crowd’s reaction is mixed, with some hesitant clapping mingling with scattered boos and jeers. Xavier steps onto the stage, his heart pounding in his chest as he feels the weight of thousands of eyes on him. As he passes the announcer, the man leans in close, his voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

“At least make it entertaining,” the announcer whispers, his tone filled with cruelty and amusement.

Xavier clenches his jaw, determined not to let the remark shake him. He continues his approach, his steps steady as he locks eyes with Selene, who now stands directly across from him. She reverts to her timid self, her shoulders hunched slightly as if trying to make herself smaller, less threatening. But Xavier isn’t fooled—he has seen the ferocity in her before, the dangerous side that sent a chill down his spine.

Taking his position, Xavier readies himself, drawing in a slow, deep breath. He tries to push aside the tension, the nagging doubt that has been eating at him ever since his encounter with Selene in the bathroom. But as he focuses on his opponent, something in her begins to change.

Selene’s posture straightens, her entire demeanor shifting in an instant. Her once-timid expression hardens, her eyes narrowing into slits as her lips curl back into a snarl. Xavier watches in stunned silence as her fingers elongate, the nails sharpening into wicked claws that gleam under the stage lights. Her teeth grow long and sharp, fangs glinting as she bares them in a menacing grin. Her legs, once slender and unassuming, thicken with muscle, the sinews bulging as they take on a more animalistic form.

The announcer’s voice echoes through the silence, sharp and clear. “Let the duel… begin!”

“I need a favor,”

Melanie looks at him, her arms crossed over her chest, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. Her gaze is icy, her posture radiating a kind of dangerous confidence that makes Xavier’s skin prickle with unease.

“A favor?” Melanie repeats, her tone laced with disbelief. She lets out a sharp laugh, tilting her head back as if she can’t quite believe what she’s hearing. “And why, in the bloody hell, would I help you after the disrespect you showed me today?”

Her voice is cutting, each word dripping with venom. The memory of their earlier encounter, where Xavier had barely managed to hold his ground against her remarks, is still fresh in his mind. But he can’t afford to back down now—not when so much is at stake.

Xavier takes a breath, steadying himself. Melanie isn’t the kind of person to be swayed easily, but he has a feeling there is a way to push her buttons, to get her to see things his way.

“Because,” Xavier starts, his voice calm, measured, “you’re the best at what you do. And the last thing I want is to waste my time learning from someone who doesn’t measure up. I need someone who knows what it’s like to be at the top, who understands how to win, no matter the odds.”

Melanie’s smirk fades slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studies him. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Xavier,” she says coldly. But there is a flicker of something in her gaze—a spark of interest, perhaps?—that tells him he might be on the right track.

“Maybe not,” Xavier replies, shrugging nonchalantly. “But I’m not here to flatter you. I’m here because I know you’re the only one who can help me. You're someone who doesn't accept defeat but continues to strive to reach the top through every setback.”

Melanie raises an eyebrow, her expression still skeptical but less hostile. “And what makes you think I care about helping you survive? Maybe I’d rather watch you fall flat on your face.”

Xavier allows himself a small smile, the kind that suggests he’s in on a secret. “You might not care about helping me, but you care about proving you're the best. And I’ve got a feeling you’d love the chance to show that you can take someone like me and turn them into a real threat, all because of your skills and knowledge.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, her gaze still sharp and assessing. Xavier can almost see the gears turning in her mind, weighing his words against her instincts. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Melanie lets out a sigh, rolling her eyes as if she is reluctantly conceding to a point.

“Alright,” she says, her tone begrudging. “I’ll humor you. But don’t think for a second that this makes us friends. You’re on your own once we’re done here.”

Xavier nods, relief washing over him despite her cold demeanor. “Fair enough. That’s all I’m asking.”

Melanie eyes him for a moment longer, then shakes her head with a chuckle. “You really want me to teach you how to fight? You do realize I come from a family of dancers, right? If that’s what you’re thinking, I can't help.”

Xavier’s brow furrows slightly, but he remains silent, sensing she isn’t finished.

“What I can do,” Melanie continues, her voice taking on a slightly more serious tone, “is teach you how to find your opponent’s rhythm. Everyone’s got one, whether they know it or not. It’s all about understanding the way they move, the way they think. You learn to read that, and you’ll always be one step ahead.”

She pauses, looking at him as if waiting to see if he grasps the significance of what she’s offering. Xavier meets her gaze, the weight of her words sinking in. It isn’t just about fighting—it’s about understanding, anticipating, and controlling the flow of a battle. This is the kind of knowledge that could make all the difference.

“Teach me,” Xavier says quietly, his voice steady. “I’ll learn.”

Melanie nods slowly, a hint of amusement and interest in her eyes. “Alright then. let's see how much you can learn in an hour.”

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

With a sudden, explosive burst of speed, Selene lunges forward, her transformed body a blur of motion. Her claws swipe through the air, aiming directly for Xavier’s head. He reacts on instinct, ducking and dashing to the side just in time. The ground where he had been standing moments before erupts in a shower of debris as Selene’s arm digs deep into the arena floor, the sheer force of the impact leaving a gaping wound in the earth.

She straightens, her predatory gaze locking onto Xavier as he scrambles to regain his footing. “You can run, but you can’t hide,” she taunts, her voice a low, guttural growl. The crowd roars in approval, feeding off her feral energy.

Xavier’s mind races, trying to keep up with her relentless attacks. He moves quickly, darting to the edges of the arena, trying to put some distance between them. But Selene is fast—faster than he anticipates. Every time he thinks he’s gained some ground, she’s there, closing the gap, forcing him to stay on the defensive.

Their deadly dance continues, Selene’s strikes coming closer and closer with each pass. Xavier narrowly avoids a vicious swipe, feeling the sharp wind of her claws as they slice through the air. But then, in a split second, she changes her approach, moving with a speed and precision that catches him off guard.

Her claws slash through the fabric of his shirt, leaving a shallow cut across his chest. Xavier grits his teeth against the sting of pain, the warmth of blood beginning to seep into his torn clothing. Selene grins wickedly, her teeth bared in a feral smile, sensing victory is within reach.

She becomes even more aggressive, her attacks more ferocious, her movements less predictable. The crowd’s cheers reach a fever pitch, echoing in Xavier’s ears as he struggles to keep up. But in the chaos of the fight, amidst the pain and the noise, something clicks.

He suddenly realizes that

.her movements, while erratic, follow a certain rhythm—a pattern that repeats, albeit subtly. Melanie’s words from earlier echo in his mind: Find your opponent’s rhythm.

Xavier’s eyes narrow, focusing intently on Selene. He times his steps, his movements, matching the beat of her attacks. And then, with a surge of confidence, he knows. He’s figured out what he needs to do.

Xavier quickly distances himself from Selene, retreating to the far edge of the arena. His breath comes in ragged gasps, the cut on his chest stings with every move, but his mind remains sharp, focused. He recalls Melanie's movements, the way she controlled the rhythm of her fight with precise footwork and timing. It was like a dance, each step calculated, each movement flowing seamlessly into the next.

He meets Selene’s gaze, determination hardening his resolve. “You’re not the only one who has tricks up their sleeve,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to her.

With a determined look, Xavier begins to tap his foot against the ground, a steady, deliberate rhythm that echoes through the silent arena. The crowd, sensing something different, begins to quiet down, their jeers and cheers fading into a hushed anticipation. He adds a clap, then another, building a pattern that mimics the Flamenco rhythm Melanie had used, but with a pace all his own—slower, more deliberate.

Selene’s eyes narrow, her nostrils flare as she watches him with a mixture of curiosity and irritation. “What the hell are you doing?” she growls, her patience wearing thin. She seems almost insulted by his strange display, like a predator mocked by its prey.

Xavier doesn’t respond. He just keeps tapping, keeps clapping, trying to center himself. The rhythm gives him focus, a way to calm his racing heart and steady his nerves.

Selene’s irritation boils over. With a snarl, she charges, her powerful legs propel her forward in a blur of speed. “You think you can just dance your way out of this?” she snaps as she closes in on him.

But this time, Xavier doesn’t run. He sidesteps her strike, narrowly dodging Selene’s clawed hand with a fluid motion that almost seems too easy. The crowd gasps, stunned into silence by his unexpected maneuver. Selene's momentum carries her past him, and for a brief moment, she stumbles, clearly surprised that she missed.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Xavier taunts, his voice strained but confident as he keeps tapping, keeps clapping, trying to maintain the rhythm.

Selene whirls around, fury blazing in her eyes. “You little—” she snarls, her voice seething with rage. She’s not used to being toyed with, and it shows.

Xavier knows he’s still far from perfect, his movements awkward and unrefined, but he can feel the difference. The rhythm gives him a sense of timing, a way to anticipate Selene’s next move before it happens. His dodges are still clumsy, far from Melanie’s graceful execution, but they’re more effective than before.

Selene, however, isn’t one to be outdone. Her patience is completely gone. “You think you’ve figured me out?” she spits, her voice a dangerous growl. “Let’s see how long you can keep up, then!”

With a furious roar, she barrels toward Xavier again, her strikes coming faster, more unpredictable. Xavier manages to evade a few more attacks, the rhythm guiding him, but he’s still not fast enough, not skilled enough to keep up with her increasing speed.

Selene’s eyes flash with something like glee as she notices his struggle. “Getting tired, Xavier?” she taunts, her voice dripping with malicious delight. “Can’t keep up anymore?”

Suddenly, Selene feints to the left, then pivots with blinding speed, catching Xavier off guard. Before he can react, she drives her fist forward, not with her claws but with brute force. The impact lands directly on Xavier’s arm, a sickening crack echoes through the arena as the bone snaps under the pressure.

Xavier cries out in pain, the rhythm shattered as he clutches his broken arm. Selene steps back, breathing heavily, a satisfied, predatory grin spreading across her face. “Told you you couldn’t keep up,” she sneers, the crowd erupting into a mix of cheers and gasps, the intensity of the fight now at its peak.

From his position in the stands, Jackson’s heart sinks. He leans forward, his hands gripping the railing so tightly his knuckles turn white. “Stay down, sugar,” he mutters under his breath, his voice tinged with desperation. “It ain’t worth it. Just stay down.”

But even as he speaks the words, Jackson knows they’ll fall on deaf ears. Jackson clenches his fist, feeling the frustration and helplessness welling up inside him. “Damn it, Xavier,” he whispers, hoping somehow his voice can reach him. “Don’t do this. It just ain’t worth the struggle!”

Down in the arena, Xavier staggers, his vision swimming as the pain radiates through his body. He can barely feel his arm, the agony so intense it nearly drives him to his knees. But through the haze of pain, something inside him refuses to yield. He forces himself to stay on his feet, his mind racing as he tries to focus on anything other than the pain.

His thoughts drift back to years ago, to a time when he was just a junior journalist working on a case that had baffled everyone. A serial killer had been targeting people at parties, blending in with the crowd before striking. The police were stumped, unable to predict where the serial killer would go, as they couldn't find any connections between the victims. But Xavier had noticed something, a small detail that everyone else had overlooked.

It was the music. The killer would only go out and commit homicide at parties with specific music. Xavier had spent weeks poring over the case files, attending parties, researching every song, every beat, until he found the missing link. It was the rhythm that connected the killer to the crimes.

The memory flashes through his mind like lightning, bringing with it a renewed sense of clarity. Xavier’s breathing slows, his focus sharpening despite the pain. He can hear Selene taunting him, her voice a distant echo in the back of his mind.

“What’s the matter, Xavier? Had enough?” Selene calls out, her tone mocking as she circles him like a predator toying with its prey. “You really thought you could beat me? You’re just a—”

But Xavier isn’t listening to her words anymore. His mind is elsewhere, back in that investigation, back to the moment when he’d cracked the case by thinking outside the box. He didn’t need brute strength to win this fight. He needed strategy, and he needed rhythm. A different rhythm.

With a deep breath, Xavier starts moving again. But this time, it isn’t the Flamenco rhythm he’d tried earlier. He shifts his stance, his feet beginning to move in a smoother, more fluid pattern. He begins tapping out a new rhythm—quicker, more intricate, focused on himself. It’s a salsa rhythm, one that requires faster footwork, sharper turns, and a more responsive body. He isn't controlling the pace anymore, he’s making it.

Selene pauses, noticing the change in his movements. “What’s this now?” she sneers, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “Switching it up? Won’t make a difference, Xavier.”

But Xavier doesn’t respond. He’s too focused, too in tune with the rhythm he’s creating. The pain in his arm is still there, throbbing with every movement, but it’s secondary now, pushed to the back of his mind.

As Selene lunges at him again, Xavier doesn’t step aside; he spins, his movements faster and more precise. He dodges her strike by a hair’s breadth, feeling the rush of air as her claws barely miss him. But this time, he doesn’t just dodge—he counters.

In one swift motion, Xavier brings his good arm up, pivoting on his heel as he channels the momentum of his spin into a powerful strike. His fist collides with Selene’s side, the impact knocking her back. It wasn't just a lucky hit; it was the result of careful timing and adaptation to the situation.

“You’re going to pay for that,” Selene hisses, her voice dripping with venom. She straightens up, muscles tensing as her anger fuels her resolve. “I’m going to tear that arm off and beat you with it.”