The air was thick with anticipation.
Even before the duel began, a restless hush swept the arena—charged, breathless, waiting to ignite. The Starbound instructors stood still as statues on the observation platform, their expressions unreadable. Above them, the bracket glowed with ominous clarity:
TALON vs AZRAEL
On opposite ends of the dueling platform, the two combatants stood like mirrored shadows—one forged in steel, the other in silence.
Talon of the Ardent Blades exhaled slowly, rolling his neck. Armor of woven iron threads coiled across his arms, faintly humming with kinetic force. His star-brand—a jagged sigil burned across his shoulder—gleamed with a crimson hue. The Star of Iron pulsed beneath his skin like a beating forge.
Azrael stood still, utterly still. No breath, no blink, just a silhouette in dusk-black attire. His presence was a void—cold and calm, drawing the eye only when it moved. The shadows curled at his feet like loyal beasts, waiting for his signal.
The Starbound instructor raised a hand.
"Begin."
Talon didn't wait.
With a roar, he surged forward—feet pounding the marble like war drums. His fist snapped out, wrapped in an iron gauntlet, and the air cracked from the force behind it.
Azrael vanished.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. One second he had been there, the next—gone like a whisper in the wind.
Talon pivoted hard, ducking low as instinct screamed. Just in time.
A blade of condensed shadow sliced past his cheek.
He growled, arm sweeping out, colliding with a streak of dark that reformed into Azrael mid-air. The impact forced Azrael back, sliding across the ground with frictionless grace.
"So you can hit," Azrael said quietly.
Talon's lip curled. "And you can vanish. Cute trick. Won't save you twice."
With a roar, Talon slammed both palms to the ground.
The marble beneath his feet cracked, veins of iron bursting upward like jagged roots. Spears of forged metal shot forward, aiming to impale.
Azrael danced between them—one step, two, three—his feet barely grazing the platform. His body blurred, became smoke, reappeared behind Talon in a blink.
Null Step.
He struck.
A dagger of black drove toward Talon's spine—but the boy twisted with inhuman speed, catching Azrael's wrist mid-thrust.
Their eyes locked.
"You're fast," Talon said, grin growing. "But I've fought faster."
And then he hurled Azrael like a comet.
Azrael hit the far edge of the arena and rolled, breaking the impact with a sweep of his cloak. Shadows rushed to catch him—cushioning, coiling, absorbing the blow.
From the stands, the students erupted.
"Azrael's teleporting—did you see that?!"
"Talon just tanked it! Is he even human?!"
"Dude's a walking fortress."
Iris leaned forward, tense. "Azrael's not just fighting power—he's fighting pressure. Every hit Talon lands could break bone."
Serah's brows furrowed. "Then he better not let him land any."
Back in the arena, Talon stomped forward—each step a declaration of dominance. His star burned brighter now, casting molten light across his body.
"Come on, shadow boy. Don't tell me that's all the Abyss gave you."
Azrael stood slowly. His gaze didn't flinch. "You speak too much."
With a flick of his wrist, the arena darkened.
A dome of shadow fell over them, swallowing the space in unnatural dusk. The crowd gasped as half the arena vanished from view.
Umbrawalk.
Inside the dome, Talon's senses strained.
Something whispered behind him.
He spun and punched—metal meeting nothing.
A flicker of movement to the left.
A slice across his thigh—barely shallow.
Another across his shoulder.
Talon growled, iron rippling over his skin to form partial armor. "Coward."
The shadows whispered back.
Azrael's voice, low and distant: "No. Patient."
Then—
From the darkness, Talon roared, igniting a shockwave of iron force around his body. The shadows peeled away, revealing a fury-forged form surrounded by a hurricane of blades—each floating and spinning like orbiting moons.
He bled from shallow cuts, but he was smiling.
Azrael appeared across from him, cloak tattered at the edge.
Talon raised a hand, and the spinning blades launched.
Azrael moved.
Shadowstep—duck, vanish, reappear. Blade to blade, fist to dagger. Their weapons clashed in blur-fast succession, sparks dancing across steel and shadow.
Azrael landed a cut along Talon's side.
Talon slammed a knee into Azrael's gut.
Both staggered. Both breathed hard.
Their strengths could not be more different. One was forged to endure, to conquer with brute inevitability. The other—crafted to slip past walls and slit through silence.
Talon cracked his neck again. "You hit harder than I expected."
Azrael exhaled. "You talk more than I hoped."
They lunged again.
Talon drove a spiked elbow toward Azrael's ribs—Azrael caught it on a cloak-wrapped arm, twisting to redirect the force and hurl Talon to the ground.
But Talon rolled with the momentum and came up swinging, forcing Azrael back.
The crowd roared at every motion—each clash a painting of contrast.
Above them, the Starbound observed in silence.
Below, the fight reached its peak.
Until Azrael stepped back… and stopped.
His fingers curled.
The air shifted.
Even Talon froze.
"What now?"
Azrael's voice dropped like the weight of the abyss itself. "You want more than silence?"
He raised his hand.
The shadows surged.
From the void behind him, a halo began to form—wide, cold, and endless. Not of light… but of darkness. A ring of negative space, swallowing even the air around it.
Void Halo.
The crowd gasped, even those who had seen it in training. This wasn't stealth. This wasn't silence.
This was annihilation.
Azrael stepped forward, the ring coalescing behind his back like a crown of ruin.
Talon's grin faded for the first time.
The Star of Iron hummed against his skin.
And as the platform cracked beneath their feet, the crowd held its breath once more.