Dust hung in the air like fog, curling around the four combatants as if drawn to the overwhelming surge of energy rising from the center of the battlefield. The clash between the dragons and the beastmen had entered a new threshold; one beyond restraint, beyond caution and far beyond the realm of mere mastery.

  This was no longer just a duel.

  It was everything to each of the four souls who now stood within the Coliseum.

  The twins stood in unison, their chests rising and falling, their breathing hard and heavy.

  It was then that Lukas heard it.

  They all did.

  At first it was faint, like the pounding of a war drum far-off in the distance, but it was quickly growing louder and closer, until Lukas realized with horror that it was coming from inside of the twins. The deep, resounding thump of their hearts filled the arena, echoing off the pillars and walls of the Coliseum like the beat of a monstrous engine.

  Then, the twins moved.

  Rasta and Adonis surged forward with a boom and Lukas' eyes widened as they closed the distance.

  They had just broken the sound barrier.

  Their bodies blurred, vanishing from sight for a heartbeat before reappearing only inches away from their opponents. Lukas barely managed to pivot aside, feeling a shockwave ripple across his chest as Rasta’s fist grazed him, just a brush, but enough to rip and warp through the air from where he had just been.

  Jesse met Adonis’ strike with crossed arms, but even then, the impact flung him backward across the stone platform, feet grinding against the cracked surface until he finally came to a stop.

  The Internal Arts was a dangerous discipline even in their purest form, Lukas knew that much. To strengthen one’s body through the circulation of magical energy required a lifetime of refinement, of forging sinew and bone into vessels capable of withstanding the nature of magical energy.

  But this was more than just that.

  This was the Overdrive of the Internal Arts, a reckless defiance of the mortal limitation that had been placed on one's physical body. Every single drop of magical energy within was allowed to flow through the twins now without restraint, racing through every fiber of their being.

  Rasta roared and leapt, his body twisting midair as he brought his knee down toward Lukas. The ground split on impact when Lukas rolled aside, shards of stone and dust flying upward. Before he could even regain footing, Adonis was already behind him, his fists coated with the faint blue hue of condensed mana, magical energy fighting to escape from the beastman's body and turning the powerful strike into a deadly one. Jesse appeared between them, intercepting the blow, but even he staggered from the sheer force behind it.

  The twins grinned, baring their horrible fangs at the dragons, knowing that the Overdrive of the Internal Arts had elevated the beastmen to a level comparable to the dragons that now stood before them. The blood that leaked from the corners of the twins' mouths evaporated instantly, as if their own bodies refused to accept weakness. Their hearts had become more than an organ that pumped blood, they had been reforged by that same magical current, pumping blood through every vessel with a force so violent that its beat could be heard by even the crowd.

  The transformation was horrifying to witness.

  The skin of both twins had turned a deep, furious crimson, veins bulging along their arms, necks, and faces in a web of violent color. In the harsh light of the Khaitishi sun, they looked almost sculpted from molten flesh, the veins pulsing rhythmically in time with that deafening heartbeat.

  Sweat and steam poured from their bodies, rising in thin wisps that twisted and coiled upward, staining the air with heat. Their muscles had swelled grotesquely beneath the strain, rippling and tightening with each breath.

  The Internal Arts had always been meant to refine the body but Overdrive had turned them into violence incarnate. Their eyes glowed faintly, gold and burning, like molten embers trapped behind cracked glass. Lukas could see the toll it was taking. He could see it in the trembling of their limbs, the way their flesh split in places and healed again almost immediately, a cycle of destruction and regeneration occurring every second.

  It was horrifying and mesmerizing all at once.

  That was the beauty of Overdrive, the paradox of it, because the same magical current that tore them apart was also what held them together, keeping their ruined bodies alive long enough to reach the pinnacle of strength.

  This was a last resort.

  The twins were not fighting to survive anymore.

  They had crossed that line the moment their hearts began to roar like the drums of war.

  Now, all that drove them was the raw, consuming hunger to win.

  It didn’t matter what happened after. They would either stand victorious or be defeated, their bodies would burn out completely, consumed from the inside out, no matter the outcome.

  Lukas could see the pain in their movements but also the ecstasy.

  The flesh along Rasta’s shoulders split in thin red lines each time he flexed, but it didn’t slow him. Adonis' hands bled freely, yet he swung them like blades, each motion a perfect reflection of his brother’s.

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  Their synchronization was perfection—one thought, one motion and one absolute will. There was no hesitation, no pause for recovery and certainly no room for doubt. They were fighting as one soul split between two bodies.

  Yet, even as Lukas held them back with both the Internal Arts and the Divinity of the Seas, the King of the Dragons understood something deeper in the madness of their eyes.

  It wasn’t hatred that drove them.

  It wasn’t even desperation.

  It was love.

  They loved this—the thrill, the clash and the fury of it all.

  The twins were born for this arena, for this struggle. And suddenly, he understood what Makhulu had meant.

  Perhaps Rasta and Adonis had initially entered the Tournament for their people, to earn a chance at freeing Khaitish from Nozar’s grip. Lukas would never deny them the true reason that they had entered the Tournament was so that they could be given the opportunity to ask the High Septon how they could set their people free.

  But that was now but an afterthought.

  Lukas could see it in their faces as clearly as the crimson veins winding across their skin, they were alive in this chaos, alive in the struggle. They laughed and they grinned, for this was what the twins had always wanted: A battle, one like no other, against those who could give their lives a worthy end.

  The stone beneath their feet shattered under the pressure of their steps. Every exchange rattled the air with shockwaves. Each collision left cracks in the protective magic barriers that separated the fighters and the crowd.

  Lukas’ mind raced to keep up.

  Their rhythm was primal, wild and unpredictable. It reminded Lukas all too well of Soren Ittriki and the fighting style that Serenya had taught him—the rhythm of a beast, natural yet impossible to predict. Each motion flowed into the next, instinct guiding their every movement, improvisation and naturality was their technique.

  Jesse’s breath grew ragged as he narrowly avoided a strike that could have caved in his ribs.

  The tide had turned completely.

  Just moments ago, it was Lukas and Jesse who had the upper hand. But now, all of that had been stripped away. The twins’ Overdrive of the Internal Arts had tipped the scales entirely in their favor.

  Lukas should have felt dread. He should have felt fear, the fear of failure and defeat.

  What if they lost? What if he never reached the High Septon? What if the words of Prophecy—those that shaped the fate of the world itself—were forever beyond his reach?

  Suddenly, there was a flash of sight that was not his own, one that came through the bond that had been established between Jesse's mind and his own.

  For a single instant, Lukas saw himself through Jesse’s eyes. And he was smiling, wearing the same grin on his gorydamn face.

  Despite the pain, despite the danger, despite the possibility of death, Lukas was smiling.

  Because in that moment, Lukas understood.

  He was no different from them.

  Rasta, Adonis and Lukas, they were all the same. They were creatures born to fight. Bound not by victory or purpose, but by the irresistible call of the battle itself.

  Just for a moment, it no longer mattered that the twins could end this fight at any moment with a finishing blow. Even as Lukas felt the sharp sting of Rasta’s claws tearing across his chest, blood trailing in thin, crimson lines, his grin only widened. He met the beastman’s fury with one of his own, his fist slamming into Rasta’s jaw with brutality and force that send his head flying. The impact sent shockwaves through the air, stone splintering beneath their feet.

  In that instant, amidst the roars of the crowd and the blinding sunlight pouring down from above, Lukas forgot where he was. He wasn’t standing on within the Coliseum nor was he fighting in the Tournament of Khaitish.

  He wasn’t Lukas Drakos, Dragon Lord of Linemall's Seas and now King of the Dragons.

  Just for a second, he was Julien Fronterra once more. The lights above did not come from the blazing Khaitish sun, but the fixtures that once hung over shining bright for all the world to see.

  He had missed this feeling, the feeling of being back in the ring once more.

  Then reality snapped back with a flash of wind.

  Jesse materialized from thin air, his form solidifying out of translucent gusts just in time for Adonis' leg to whip through the air and crash into his head. The blow was brutal, a perfect arc of raw power meeting flesh. Jesse’s body spun midair, only barely catching himself before he could be sent hurtling off the edge of the platform.

  Lukas’ grin faltered and just like that, he was broken out of his trance.

  This could not go on for much longer.

  The twins were still burning in Overdrive, bodies pushed beyond their natural limits and exposing Lukas and Jesse's own.

  The Divinity of the Skies gave the dragonborn speed unparalleled, allowing him to blur between reality and storm, his form shifting into the very air itself. But the winds were fleeting. They could not hold their shape forever. It was not like the waters, Jesse's spell of transformation only lasting seconds before his body had to return to flesh and blood. And the moment that spell came to an end, any one of the two beastmen could not only take Jesse out of the fight but end his life.

  Against the twins, Lukas could still hold his own. The Divinity of the Seas surged within him, power coiling beneath his skin like tides waiting to break. Every motion felt like a wave crashing, every breath like salt and storm. But even he knew, if one strike landed cleanly, this fight might not end well for him.

  Lukas glanced at Jesse, their minds still linked through the Crown.

  No words were spoken but they both knew one thing.

  They had to put an end to this fight right here and now.

  The air began to tremble.

  Rasta and Adonis roared in defiance, their bodies flaring red as their Overdrive reached its absolute peak. The heartbeat thundered louder than ever, echoing like drums of war. The platform beneath them groaned, splintering from the combined pressure of their power.

  Lukas and Jesse needed to unleash the power of their Divinities, just like the twins and their Overdrive of the Internal Arts. They would end it all in a single move and bring down the full strength of the Skies and the Seas.

  The moment that would decide the victor had finally come.

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