"Three left," Nova said. His eyes swept the treeline. "And they're regrouping."

Adam sniffed the air. "They're circling," he said. "Their scent's thick, but it's thinning. I think they're pulling back to their base."

"They're baiting us," Elesch said quietly, adjusting her stance. Her tone was calm, but her eyes darted, scanning the shadows. "They want us off the middle ground."

Nova exhaled slowly. "Doesn't matter. If their leader's on the move, we can't sit still. If they reach our crystal before we reach theirs-"

The sentence didn't need finishing. They all knew. He turned toward Adam. "We move fast and low. Elesch, bend in with the foliage, and recon ahead. Adam, flank right. I'll follow the heat trail."

Elesch nodded once, flickering into invisibility, while Adam bounded up into the canopy, vanishing in bursts of speed.

Nova darted forward, silent and steady, weaving through vines that pulsed with faint bioluminescence. The jungle's humidity clung to his skin. Then the first sound broke the silence, metal scraping stone.

"Elesch," Nova whispered. "Report."

No response.

"Elesch?" he tried again, his voice tightening.

From the canopy, Adam's voice came through the comm, low and grim. "She's gone."

Nova froze.

"She moved into a clearing, something happened. Then… nothing."

A low rumble answered his confusion. The ground beneath him shook, faint but steady, footsteps. Heavy ones. They're here.

"Fall back!" Nova barked.

But it was too late. A spear of molten metal tore through the trees, grazing Adam's shoulder mid-leap. He howled in pain, twisting as flames licked his armor.

Another spear followed, embedding into the tree beside him before detonating in a burst of fire. Through the inferno stepped the Nigerian Guild leader.

A giant of a man, his glaive pulsing with the color of magma and gold. His armor gleamed like obsidian glass etched with tribal sigils that pulsed with fiery light. His eyes were molten themselves, steady and merciless.

"Running already?" His voice was calm, almost amused. "I expected more from the Americans."

Nova took a defensive stance, daggers ready but still cold. "Where's my teammate?"

The leader tilted his head. "Your little phantom? She's resting. My second buried her under a mana snare. Don't worry, she's alive. For now."

Behind him, two more Nigerians emerged. One dragged Adam by the collar, bloodied but breathing. His claws twitched weakly, but the man holding him slammed a gauntlet into his ribs, knocking him limp.

Nova's jaw tightened. "Let him go."

The leader chuckled, resting his glaive on his shoulder. "You're in no position to give orders."

He raised the weapon, its edge flaring with molten energy. "You've stepped too close to our domain. And in my domain, you burn."

The first swing came down like a hammer from the heavens. Nova barely blocked it, his daggers catching the glaive's edge with a shriek of metal.

The force alone sent shockwaves through the soil, sparks scattering like fireflies. He slid backward, boots gouging a trench into the dirt.

The leader pressed forward, relentless, each strike was a measured display of control and sheer brutality. Nova parried and dodged, his movements efficient, economical, desperate. Every muscle in his arms screamed from the impact.

"You fight well," the Nigerian rumbled, voice echoing between swings. "But you're shackled."

He forced another overhead strike, so heavy it split the ground. Nova dodged sideways, rolling to his feet. "Shackles can be broken."

"Not that one." The leader grinned. "I saw your curse."

Nova froze mid-breath.

"The Mirror of Burden," the leader continued, circling. "I watched your crystal's light turn violet. I know why you don't use your power. You're fighting half-awake."

"Half is enough," Nova spat.

The leader's grin widened. "We'll see."

They clashed again, metal against metal, heat against instinct. The glaive hummed, drawing in ambient mana, and with each impact, it flared brighter. Nova ducked, dodged, and deflected, but he was losing ground fast.

At the Soul Crystal

Across the arena, near the violet glow of the American Guild's crystal, Zane and Michael were locked in their own war.

"Contact!" Zane yelled, his shield braced as a Nigerian brawler slammed into him with the force of a battering ram. Sparks exploded on impact.

Michael stood behind him, hands weaving through complex sigils, summoning thin barriers of kinetic light. "I'm trying to reinforce the perimeter! Just hold!"

Zane grunted as another hit rattled his bones. "Easier said than done!"

Two Nigerians pressed hard, one hammer-wielder, one long-range archer, launching mana-infused arrows. The barriers shimmered and cracked under the barrage, the violet crystal behind them pulsating faster, reacting to the stress.

Michael cursed, raising both arms to channel another wall, but one arrow shattered through, grazing his shoulder. Blood sprayed across his sleeve.

"Michael!" Zane shouted.

"I'm fine! Just hold!" He slammed his staff into the ground, releasing a ring of concussive force that staggered their attackers back a few steps. "Nova, we're pinned! We can't hold much longer!"

Nova's voice crackled faintly through the comm, strained, breathless. "Understood. Finish holding. I'll handle the rest."

Back at the enemy base, Nova dodged another devastating swing. His breathing was ragged now, his jacket torn, one dagger chipped from deflecting the glaive again and again. The leader towered over him, unrelenting.

"You're stalling," the Nigerian said calmly. "You can't win like this."

Nova's gaze flicked toward Adam and Elesch, both unconscious, restrained by mana-chains pulsing with orange light. The leader followed his glance and smirked. "If you want them back, use your power. I dare you."

Nova's jaw clenched. The temptation burned in him like a fever. One activation, one surge of mana through his daggers, and he could match the man's strength. But the reflection would strike first. His body might not survive it.

He gripped his blades tighter. No. Not yet.

The leader lunged, glaive spinning in a deadly arc. Nova sidestepped, parried, and countered with a flurry of slashes, controlled, fast, and surgical. Each strike aimed for a weak point, each deflected by pure skill. But skill alone was wearing thin.

The glaive crashed against his forearm guard, breaking it clean in two. The impact sent him sprawling back into a shattered obelisk. He hit hard, the wind knocked out of him.

The Nigerian stalked forward, the air around him shimmering with heat. "End of the line."

Nova spat blood, forcing himself to stand. His vision swam, but his focus sharpened to a razor's edge. "You talk too much."

He dropped one dagger, flipping the other into a reverse grip. The world around him narrowed, just him, his opponent, and the faint violet pulse of the cursed crystal miles away.

The leader charged, glaive burning like a miniature sun. Nova moved. He darted in low, evading the first swing by a hair. His dagger flashed upward, grazing the man's gauntlet. Sparks burst.

Then another dodge, duck, pivot, slash. The glaive came down again, but Nova caught the haft with both hands, twisting, using the momentum to drive his knee into the leader's ribs.

The man grunted, barely flinching. He retaliated with a kick that sent Nova skidding across the ground.

"Still holding back," the leader said, laughing. "You're going to die for pride."

"Not pride," Nova hissed, staggering to his feet. "Discipline."

The leader raised his glaive for the finishing strike. That's when Nova made his choice.

He flipped his remaining dagger, whispered a prayer to Father, and ignited his mana. Violet light burst from his weapon, spiraling through his veins like molten glass.

Pain followed instantly, blistering, searing, catastrophic. His muscles screamed as energy rebounded through him, doubling in intensity. His heartbeat became thunder.

The leader's grin faltered. "You-"

Nova vanished. He reappeared mid-swing, dagger glowing white-violet, cutting through the air like a comet. The first strike connected, clean, brutal, slicing through the man's armor at the chest.

The reflection hit him instantly afterward, an invisible backlash that sent a shockwave of agony through his body. Blood dripped from his nose, but he didn't stop.

The second strike came faster, harder. Another backlash. His vision dimmed, lungs spasming from the feedback. Still, he pressed forward, screaming through the pain.

The glaive swung wide in retaliation, molten energy cleaving the air. Nova ducked, spun, and slammed his dagger deep into the leader's side.

The explosion of energy threw both men backward. The jungle lit up in a burst of violet and orange flame.

When the dust settled, the leader staggered, his armor cracked and smoking. Nova knelt, barely conscious, dagger still glowing faintly in his trembling hand.

"You…" the leader gasped, falling to one knee. "You'd burn yourself alive… for victory?"

Nova forced a thin smile, teeth bloodied. "No… for my guild."

He lunged one final time, driving the dagger through the man's chest. The glaive dropped, its molten light extinguished. The leader fell still.

Nova collapsed beside him, chest heaving. His skin was scorched, veins darkened from the curse's recoil. But he could still move.

He turned his gaze toward the Nigerian Soul Crystal, glowing faintly orange through the smoke.

Every muscle screamed as he crawled forward, dragging himself over stone and dirt. Each pulse of the crystal resonated with the same rhythm as his pain, steady, unrelenting.

He raised his dagger, whispered, "This is for them," and plunged it into the crystal.

The explosion that followed was silent first, just light and vibration, then sound caught up, roaring like a collapsing star.

Aftermath

Across the arena, the Nigerian attackers froze mid-swing. Their weapons dimmed, the strength buff vanishing in an instant. Zane and Michael watched as their enemies' armor cracked with light, dissolving into ash. The battlefield quieted.

Then came the announcement, static and distant:"The Nigerian Guild's Soul Crystal has been destroyed. The American Guild advances to the final round."

Zane lowered his shield, gasping. "He did it..."

Michael fell to his knees, staring at the violet crystal behind them. It was dim now, nearly gray, its curse vanished.

In the jungle's center, Nova staggered to his feet, swaying. The arena around him shimmered, beginning its reset cycle. Elesch and Adam lay unconscious nearby, the mana-chains fading from their limbs.

He looked down at his trembling hands, burned, scarred, but alive. The Mirror of Burden still pulsed faintly under his skin, but it was quieter now, subdued.

He exhaled shakily, half-laughing, half-sighing. "Told you," he whispered to no one in particular. "Half's enough."

Then the light took him, bright, soft, final, and the jungle dissolved into pixels. The American Guild had survived the impossible.

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