"It's pointless, kid. I don't know what technique you're using, but you can't stop me now. I'm operating at full power, and you're... well, you're still just you."Jabber's lips curved into a small, defiant smile. "Let's watch and see, Brick the Destroyer of Stones."The deliberate repetition of the mocking name hit exactly as intended. Brick's face flushed darker, the flames around his body flaring brighter in response to his anger. When he spoke, his voice had gone from almost gentle to hard and cold."You really want to keep making jokes? Fine. Let me show you exactly how fast I can move when I'm actually trying."And then he exploded forward.The speed was shocking. One moment Brick was standing relatively still, the next he was a blur of motion and crimson-black flame, closing the remaining distance in a fraction of a second. His right fist came around in a devastating hook aimed at Jabber's head, the flames around his hand trailing behind like a comet's tail."Wow, he's way f

Jabber stared at the figure wearing his face, his heart hammering so hard in his chest it felt like it might break through his ribs. Fear had seized his throat, making it difficult to speak, but he forced the words out anyway, defiant despite his terror."I'm not weak." He said, his voice shaking but firm. "You don't know anything about me."The figure's lips curved into a smile,Jabber's lips, but wrong, so wrong and then suddenly it wasn't standing in front of him anymore. It was behind him. Jabber felt a cold presence at his back."Yes, you are." The figure whispered and its voice was ice sliding down Jabber's spine. "I mean, look at you. You're the one laying unconscious on the ground right now. Your face is a bloody mess. Your ribs are probably cracked.”“ You got beaten down by some overconfident strongman who wasn't even trying his hardest until the end. And now you're here, in the dark, talking to me instead of standing up and fighting back."The figure moved around to face

In the ring, the referee was turning away from Jabber's prone form, walking toward where Brick stood. The big man had moved to the center of the ring, no longer wrapped in flames, just standing there with his hands on his knees, breathing hard. The fight had clearly taken a lot out of him despite his victory.The referee stopped beside Brick and raised one arm, preparing to make the official announcement. His voice rang out across the training yard:"The winner is…""Winner?"The single word cut through the air like a knife, stopping the referee mid-sentence. It was Jabber's voice,Jabber's voice, coming from Jabber's supposedly unconscious body.But the tone was wrong. It wasn't weak or painful or trembling. It was normal. Conversational. Almost curious."But I haven't quit." The voice continued, still in that same unsettlingly normal tone. Blood was running freely from Jabber's nose, dripping onto the dirt beneath him, but his voice didn't reflect any pain or distress. "Or been de

But then the smoke began to clear.Not naturally,not dispersing gradually like smoke usually did. It was being pulled away, sucked back like something was drawing it in, revealing the ring beneath.And as the smoke cleared, shapes became visible.Two figures, standing close together.One was Brick, his massive frame still wreathed in flames, his right fist extended forward in the follow-through of his devastating punch.The other was Jabber, still standing in the same position as before, head down, smoke rising from his body.And Jabber's hand,his left hand,was wrapped around Brick's extended fist, holding it. Stopping it. The flaming punch that should have demolished him was caught in Jabber's grip, held completely still like it had hit an immovable object.The crowd's noise cut off like someone had physically severed it. Total, absolute silence as hundreds of people processed what they were seeing, their minds refusing to accept it because it was impossible, it couldn't be real, it

Slowly, his head turned. His gaze drifted away from Jabber in the ring, traveling across the intervening space, moving upward to the third row of benches where…Asta was standing at the edge of the seating area, gripping the railing in front of him, his whole body leaning forward as he stared down at the ring with an expression of intense worry and confusion. His brown eyes were wide, his face were pale, his knuckles white where they clutched the wooden rail.And he wasn't reacting. Not with recognition, not with understanding, not with the kind of dawning horror that should accompany witnessing his friend's possession by an ancient dragon's flame. Just... worry. Normal worry, the kind any friend would feel watching another friend in distress.Kael studied Asta's face for a long moment, his old eyes sharp despite their cloudiness, reading every microexpression, every subtle shift in body language, every indicator that might tell him what was going on inside that boy's head.Nothing. N