Astral moved.

  No—

  he exploded forward.

  The ground shattered beneath his feet as he sprinted toward Samye with his ultimate strength unleashed. His speed distorted the air itself, pressure screaming outward.

  Samye barely saw him.

  One eye was swollen shut.

  Blood ran down his face.

  His body screamed for him to fall.

  Astral raised his fist for the finishing blow—

  And at the exact moment of impact—

  Time stopped.

  The world froze.

  Dust hung motionless in the air.

  The crowd froze mid-scream.

  Astral was suspended inches away, muscles locked, eyes wide.

  Silence.

  Samye released his spear.

  It fell—but never hit the ground.

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  He straightened slowly.

  Something about him had changed.

  His posture.

  His gaze.

  His presence.

  It was as if someone else had stepped forward inside him.

  He looked at Astral calmly.

  “…I’ve always hated brutes like you.”

  His voice was steady. Cold. Certain.

  Samye moved.

  Not rushed.

  Not emotional.

  Precise.

  He stepped beside Astral and twisted his arm.

  CRACK.

  Astral felt it—but couldn’t scream.

  Samye shifted, breaking the other arm.

  Then the legs.

  One by one.

  Methodical.

  Merciless.

  Astral was fully aware.

  He could see everything.

  He could feel everything.

  But he couldn’t move.

  Couldn’t speak.

  Couldn’t even blink.

  Samye knelt in front of him.

  “You can see me,” Samye said quietly.

  “Good.”

  “I want you to remember this.”

  He drew back his fist—

  —and punched Astral square in the face.

  Time resumed.

  Sound crashed back into the arena.

  Astral’s body slammed into the ground, broken, unconscious, unmoving.

  The crowd erupted into chaos.

  “What—?!”

  “Did anyone see that?!”

  “How did Astral fall like that?!”

  The commentator stammered.

  “I— I don’t understand—one moment Astral was attacking— and the next—!”

  Medics rushed in.

  Astral was breathing.

  Alive.

  But utterly defeated.

  Broken.

  After a long, stunned silence—

  The announcer raised his voice.

  “Winner of this round…”

  “…Samye.”

  The arena exploded.

  Samye stood alone at the center.

  Bloodied.

  Breathing hard.

  Eyes no longer glowing—but empty.

  Time ticked normally again.

  But nothing felt normal anymore.

  Because somewhere deep inside Samye—

  the other self had answered.

  And it was no longer pretending to sleep.