[Oliver’s POV]

  Then, before anyone else could speak, Demi moved.

  Oliver saw it. The faint shift of her stance, the subtle recoil as she drew power into her legs. He didn’t wait for the follow-through. Instinct took over. He threw himself backward, boots skidding across the dusty stone.

  But he wasn’t her target.

  Alan was.

  The trident flashed forward, a streak of crimson light slicing through the air. Alan barely had time to register the attack before it struck. He twisted, but not fast enough. The weapon’s prong cut deep into his abdomen, the sound sharp and wet.

  He staggered back, clutching the wound as blood poured through his fingers, staining his robe and uniform. The pain twisted his face, but his eyes remained locked on her.

  With his free hand, he raised, pointing at both of them.

  “[Gravity Lock.]”

  The words echoed through the chamber like a command to the universe itself.

  Two black spheres materialized. One around Demi, one around Oliver. The moment they appeared, the air thickened, the light bent, and the very pull of existence changed.

  Oliver felt it instantly.

  The weight hit him. His knees buckled under the sudden force, every muscle screaming as an invisible pressure crushed down on him. The floor cracked beneath his boots.

  He had felt this before, in the Silo. Yet this time, there was no warning, no chance to brace. The gravity was denser, sharper, ruthless in its precision. It pressed against his lungs, forcing the air from his chest, his heart pounding in defiance of the impossible force that sought to lock him to the floor.

  Demi fared no better. She nearly pitched forward, the weapon’s shaft her only anchor. She drove it into the ground, the metal shrieking against the stone as she used it to keep herself upright.

  Oliver gritted his teeth, his mind racing even as his body strained. 'She’s the greater threat. If she fires that trident while I’m pinned…'

  He didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t need to. He didn’t want to fight Alan, not truly. They had trained together hundreds of times, but this was different. This wasn’t practice.

  And yet, he had no choice.

  The moment demanded action.

  He drew in a sharp breath, forcing his body to obey as he pushed against the crushing weight pinning him down. The stone beneath his boots broke even more, fractures spiderwebbing outward as he pressed harder. The gravity field felt monstrous. He couldn’t tell how much Alan had amplified it, but his instincts screamed it was at least ten times normal gravity… maybe more.

  Every breath was a battle. Every heartbeat felt like a hammer against his ribs.

  Oliver clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding as he funneled his Energy inward. The current that usually flowed through his arms shifted. He redirected it, forcing it down into his legs, his spine, his core. The pain was immediate, sharp, electric. His body wasn’t meant to handle this kind of strain, not for long.

  But it worked.

  Slowly, agonizingly, his muscles began to respond. His knees trembled, his back straightened, his boots dug deeper into the floor. The gravitational pull still pressed down on him like an invisible mountain, but he could move.

  Across the chamber, Demi was already recovering. She had planted her trident into the ground, using it to brace herself as she forced her body upright.

  Oliver’s advantage was slipping away.

  He didn’t wait to see what she would do next. Hesitation was death.

  “Damn it!” Demi cursed, her voice filled with frustration as she realized Oliver had chosen her as his target. “Fighting like this sucks!”

  The weight of Alan’s gravity field still pressed down on them, turning every motion into a battle against invisible chains. Even her trident, once an extension of her will, now felt like an anchor dragging her toward the ground.

  She tried to raise it higher, to aim correctly, but the tip sagged under its own weight, the prongs dipping toward the floor.

  Oliver wasn’t moving at full speed either, but he was still faster. The moment Demi fired, the red beam hissed from the trident’s core in a burst of light. However, with the tip pointed toward the ground, Oliver barely needed to dodge the shot.

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  “You should give up,” Oliver called out, his voice calm but firm as he closed the distance. “It’ll be easier for both of us.”

  He didn’t want to have to face her. But unlike Alan, it wasn’t out of friendship. It was an attempt to keep doors open. One could never be sure when he might need allies.

  But he saw something in her eyes he hadn’t expected.

  It wasn't fear, nor desperation.

  Curiosity.

  Her gaze was filled with challenge. She wasn’t just fighting for the prize. She was studying him, measuring him, testing his limits.

  “No chance!” she spat back, her voice rising over the hum of the trident. She adjusted her stance, forcing her trembling arms to steady the weapon, and charged another shot.

  But Oliver was already there.

  He surged forward. In one swift motion, he spun and delivered a high, precise kick to the trident’s shaft.

  Demi stumbled, her grip faltering as the weapon’s balance shifted. The trident’s point dipped sharply, its Energy flux destabilizing.

  The next volley of red bolts erupted chaotically, firing in wild, uncontrolled arcs. They tore through the air, carving scars into the temple walls, melting stone where they struck. The chamber filled with the hiss of burning Energy and the stench of vaporized dust.

  One of the shots veered wildly toward the throne.

  Oliver’s heart clenched. 'She’s going to kill the Sovereign before it’s time.'

  The beam streaked across the room, aimed straight at the Sovereign seated upon the sand-colored throne.

  But before it could strike, it vanished.

  The Energy dissipated midair, snuffed out, erased, as though it had never existed.

  The Sovereign hadn’t moved. He sat perfectly still, his frail frame relaxed, his eyes half-lidded. Only a faint smile touched his lips.

  “How entertaining,” he murmured.

  The faint pulse of his Energy brushed against Oliver’s senses; so vast, so absolute, that it made their fight feel insignificant.

  The Sovereign wasn’t defending himself.

  He did not need to.

  For a fleeting moment, both Oliver and Demi stared at the Sovereign, stunned by the effortless nullification of her blast. But the shock faded almost instantly; there was no time to lose focus.

  Oliver struck first. His fists and feet blurred through the air. Demi met his strikes with her trident, the weapon spinning and twisting in her hands as she deflected, parried, and countered. Sparks of light erupted every time metal met Energy, scattering across the temple floor like tiny stars.

  Alan remained at a distance. His gravitational field pulsed intermittently, sending invisible waves of pressure that distorted the space around them. He didn’t side with either combatant; his attacks were directed at both.

  When Oliver overextended, Alan’s Energy blasts lashed out toward him, forcing him to dodge or risk being hit. When Demi focused too heavily on defending against Oliver’s barrage, Alan’s shots slammed into her flank, driving her back.

  It was a three-way war of attrition, chaotic and brutal.

  “Go to hell!” Demi shouted, her voice raw with frustration as one of Alan’s blasts caught her shoulder. She stumbled, her trident scraping against the floor as she steadied herself. “Stop hiding behind your damn boon and face me!”

  Her voice echoed through the chamber. She tried to sound fierce and defiant, but Oliver could see the cracks forming in her composure.

  She was faltering.

  The gravity was crushing her.

  She had never fought under this kind of situation before. She never trained to withstand the invisible weight that stole her stamina with every passing second. Her movements were slowing, her strikes losing precision. Beads of sweat rolled down her temples, sliding down her jaw before dripping onto the floor. Her breath came uneven, ragged, her chest heaving with each gasp.

  Oliver’s eyes narrowed. 'It’s only a matter of time.'

  He pressed his advantage.

  His movements were smaller now, more efficient. He feinted left, forcing her to block high, then pivoted low. His foot swept out in a tight arc, catching her leg.

  Her balance broke.

  The first kick struck cleanly against her shin. Before she could recover, the second connected with her other leg, driving her lower. And then the third landed against her knee, sending her stumbling backward.

  Demi’s movements were faltering. The sharp precision she’d wielded at the start was gone. Each motion grew heavier, slower. The defiance in her eyes was still there, yet dimmed by fatigue and pain.

  “It’s not too late,” Oliver said, his tone low but firm. His chest rose and fell with steady control, his gaze locked on her. “You can still stop.”

  But Demi didn’t answer. Her jaw tightened, her focus absolute. She wasn’t giving up.

  Alan’s hand flashed blue again. Another Energy blast fired across the chamber, rippling through the air like a shockwave. Demi reacted on instinct; she leapt backward, narrowly avoiding the strike.

  That was all the opening Oliver needed.

  Three strikes. Each one precise, brutal, and final.

  The first punch drove into her stomach, the impact folding her body inward as the air rushed from her lungs. The second snapped her head upward, a clean uppercut that sent a spray of blood into the air. The third landed square across her face, the sound echoing through the chamber like a gunshot.

  Her trident clattered to the ground, its glow flickering out.

  Demi collapsed beside it, her body limp, a faint trail of blood trickling from her nose. The red light of her weapon faded completely.

  “Now there are only two.”