MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

The air hummed with tension as Anthony and Orion continued their furious exchange.

The molten field, the lava swirling beneath their feet, had long since faded behind them as they crossed into a new plane, a rocky canyon, jagged stone cliffs towering around them.

The sky above was darkened with heavy clouds, as if the battle itself had summoned a storm, and the wind whistled through the narrow crevices between the rocky spires.

Here, the ground was uneven, the stone surface rough and unforgiving.

The faint scent of sulfur lingered in the air, a reminder of the molten earth they had just left behind.

Yet neither fighter seemed to notice the change in the environment.

Their focus was entirely on each other.

The air crackled with the force of their movements as they clashed again and again, their spears flashing like lightning in the darkened sky.

Orion's spear danced through the air in a graceful yet brutal arc, aimed directly for Anthony's side.

But Anthony was already moving, his body flowing like water around the attack.

He sidestepped, his spear coming up in a counterattack that slashed through the air with deadly precision.

The tip of his weapon grazed Orion's arm, leaving a shallow but painful gash across his skin.

Orion grimaced, the wound already healing almost immediately, but the sting lingered in his mind.

A flicker of doubt crossed Orion's eyes as he stepped back, reassessing the situation.

The injuries he had sustained were minor, nothing that his body could not heal in an instant, but the realization had begun to settle in. Continue reading at empire

He had already received a series of blows, each one more precise than the last.

His spear skills, while formidable, were being outclassed by Anthony's calm, unshakable form.

Every strike he made was met with a counter, every move he tried to execute was anticipated.

The fluidity with which Anthony moved was beyond what he had expected.

This was no longer a battle of raw power or speed, it was a battle of perfect control.

Orion's breathing remained steady, his body still filled with energy, but the frustration was beginning to build.

He adjusted his grip on his spear, narrowing his gaze.

Each movement Anthony made felt like it was calculated, his defenses impenetrable, his counters always landing with pinpoint precision.

It was as if Anthony had already mapped out every possible attack and was simply waiting for Orion to make the first mistake.

And every mistake that Orion made was punished with the same, unyielding precision.

Anthony's spear came again, aimed low at Orion's legs.

The attack was meant to disorient, to force Orion into an awkward position, and it landed true.

The spear tip pierced through the fabric of Orion's armor, grazing his thigh.

The blood was already starting to seep through the tear in his clothing, but the momentary sting was dismissed with a single thought.

His wound closed, and the sensation of pain was gone.

But Orion was no fool.

The pattern was clear now. Anthony was playing a game of attrition, he was wearing Orion down, forcing him into mistakes with every perfect strike, every calculated movement.

It was only a matter of time before Orion would be overwhelmed.

A surge of irritation flickered in his chest, but he kept it in check.

Instead of launching into another aggressive attack, Orion took a step back.

He wasn't going to be bested by simply superior spearmanship.

He had more at his disposal.

His eyes narrowed as his spear leveled once again, the weapon's tip shining ominously in the dim light.

He lunged with a series of feints, each one faster than the last, hoping to force Anthony into a mistake.

But Anthony remained steadfast, his spear cutting through the air with ease, parrying and blocking each attack with a fluidity that seemed almost effortless.

Then it happened.

Orion's spear twisted mid thrust, aiming directly at Anthony's throat in a deadly, almost instinctual move.

The speed of the strike was so great that it was a blur of motion, the sharp edge of the spear cutting through the air.

But Anthony had already anticipated the attack.

His body moved, gliding to the side, his spear sweeping through the air in a counterstroke.

The attack caught Orion in the shoulder, slicing through his clothing and leaving a thin but deep gash across his flesh.

Orion hissed, the blood dripping from the wound, but once again, it healed in an instant.

The pain was fleeting, but it was the principle of the matter that unsettled him.

He was being forced into a corner, the same corner he had never anticipated.

Anthony's eyes remained calm, serene.

His spear never wavered.

He was a statue of concentration, his every move a work of art, a flawless execution of technique.

Orion took a deep breath.

The frustration had been building, and now it became clear: his current approach wasn't working.

The battle had shifted in Anthony's favor, and it seemed that nothing he did could land a decisive blow.

He could feel the pull of his Reality Sculpturing ability, his mind already running through the possibilities.

But for now, he suppressed it, holding back the power that could warp the fabric of this battle.

The time for spearmanship had passed.

Orion's spear moved in a wide arc, the tip slicing through the air as he thrust with powerful intent, but his heart was no longer in it.

The fight had turned, and he was no longer playing by the same rules.

To him, it wasn't that Anthony was superior in strength or technique, it was that Anthony was unshakable.

His composure, his focus, his perfect control of every muscle in his body, every breath he took, those were the true advantages in this fight.

Orion had realized that no matter how much he advanced, no matter how many attacks he launched, the results would always be the same.

The next strike from Anthony landed, a perfectly executed thrust that found its mark in Orion's ribs.

The force of the blow was enough to push Orion back a few steps.

A bruise appeared immediately on his side, but once again, the injury vanished as though it had never existed.

Yet the sensation of defeat was still there, gnawing at the edges of Orion's mind.

With a final, fluid movement, Orion let go of his spear, the weapon falling to the ground with a soft thud.

The battle had reached its natural conclusion.

He would not win with just his spear.

He needed something more.

For the first time in the fight, Orion allowed himself to truly see the situation.

He was fighting a battle of wits and technique, and he realized that Anthony's precision had outstripped his own.

He wasn't beaten yet, but he could no longer continue with only his spear.

He would need to do what he had been avoiding.

Orion's gaze shifted briefly to his discarded weapon.

Then, without another word or action, his stance shifted.

He had made his decision.