Revenge is a dish best served Raw

The aurora above rippled as if stirred by the clash below. Tanuki’s daggers still glowed with the lingering power of the Warden’s Aegis, shards of spectral light drifting from his last desperate block. His chest heaved, but his eyes stayed locked on Arsenyx.

The glaive wielder rolled his shoulder, testing the shallow cuts Tanuki had carved into his armor. His HP bar had dipped further than in the first round, not catastrophic, but visible. Enough to make the crowd lean forward.

Arsenyx’s voice carried, calm but edged. “You’ve learned to bite. Now let’s see if you can survive the hunt.”

He moved and the glaive swept in a crimson arc, faster than before. Tanuki parried once, twice, but the third strike slipped past, grazing his side. His HP dipped, a warning flashing. He staggered, but drew immediately.

The card dissolved into light: The Shackled Star.

Chains of starlight erupted again, this time angled to foul Arsenyx’s footwork. For a heartbeat, the glaive wielder slowed. Tanuki lunged, daggers flashing, carving shallow cuts across his armor. Sparks flew, HP ticked down.

But Arsenyx adapted. He didn’t waste strength breaking the chains this time. He stepped through them, letting them drag against his armor, and used the resistance to torque his glaive into a brutal upward swing.

Tanuki barely dodged, the blade grazing his shoulder. His HP dipped again.

The Citadel Theatre roared.

“He’s holding his own!”
“Arsenyx is adjusting, look at that footwork!”
“Tanuki’s burning mana too fast again. He won’t last.”

Atlas slammed his fist against the railing. “Don’t let him reset, Tanuki! Keep pressing!”

NV’s voice was sharper, precise. “He’s baiting you into overcommitting. Pace your draws. Force him to waste energy.”

Tanuki gritted his teeth. She’s right. If I burn out again, I’m finished.

He drew again. The card dissolved into light: The Turning Spire.

The crystalline floor shifted, panels sliding, tilting the arena by degrees. Arsenyx’s stance widened instinctively, adjusting to the slope. But Tanuki was ready. He darted forward, daggers flashing, using the tilt to accelerate his momentum.

His blades carved across Arsenyx’s chest, deeper this time. The crowd erupted, disbelief echoing through the Theatre.

Arsenyx staggered, his HP dipping into the yellow. His calm expression faltered, not fear, but focus.

“Better,” he murmured. “But not enough.”

Arsenyx pressed forward, glaive spinning in a deadly dance. Each strike was heavier, sharper, more precise. Tanuki parried, dodged, countered, but the force rattled his bones. His HP dipped dangerously low.

He drew again. The card dissolved into light: The Twin Flame.

Warmth surged through him, his movements syncing with Atlas and NV’s voices. Atlas’s encouragement pushed him forward, NV’s tactical clarity pulled him into safer angles. His strikes flowed smoother, his dodges sharper.

He slipped past a glaive strike and slashed across Arsenyx’s side. Sparks flew, HP dipped further.

The crowd roared.

“He’s actually pushing him back again!”
“This is insane, no one’s done this to Arsenyx in years!”

But Arsenyx wasn’t finished. He slammed his glaive into the ground, a crimson shockwave radiating outward. Tanuki braced, but the force sent him skidding back, HP dipping again.

He drew desperately. The card dissolved into light: The Warden’s Aegis.

A spectral shield formed around him, absorbing the next blow. The glaive struck, the shield shattered, but Tanuki was still standing. He countered immediately, daggers slashing across Arsenyx’s arm.

The crowd erupted again.

Atlas shouted, voice cracking with excitement. “That’s it! Don’t stop now!”

NV’s tone was quieter, but sharper. “He’s close. But the Veil is still in the deck. Don’t draw it unless you’re ready to pay the price.”

Arsenyx’s HP bar was lower than it had ever been. His armor was scarred, his calm expression tested. And yet, he smiled.

“You’ve grown,” he said. “But growth is not victory.”

He spun his glaive, the crimson edge blazing brighter. The predator had adjusted. The hunt was far from over.

Tanuki’s daggers pulsed with the Deck’s energy, his breath ragged, his mana draining. But he was still standing. Still fighting.

For the first time, the duel felt like it could be his.

The Coliseum floor glittered with the scars of their battle, shattered crystal from the Shackled Star, scorched lines from the Arcanist’s Spark, and faint cracks where Arsenyx’s glaive had struck with bone‑shaking force. The aurora above pulsed brighter, as if the sky itself leaned closer to watch.

Tanuki’s chest heaved. His HP hovered in the red, his mana bar dangerously low. He had already drawn more cards this round than in the entire first duel. The Deck of Echoes pulsed at his side, restless, hungry.

Across from him, Arsenyx stood tall, his glaive gleaming crimson. His HP was lower than before, scarred, dented, chipped away, but his stance was unshaken. He radiated inevitability, the predator’s calm.

“You’ve grown,” Arsenyx said, voice carrying across the arena. “But growth is not victory.”

Tanuki’s grip tightened on his daggers. Then I’ll make it victory.

He drew a card and dissolved into shadow: The Eclipse Veil.

The world dimmed. The aurora narrowed into a thin crescent, the Coliseum floor darkened, and Tanuki’s daggers shed their dawnlight for a starless gleam. Power surged through him, intoxicating, terrifying, and with it came the cost. His HP began to drain, a steady bleed.

Atlas’s voice cracked through the party channel. “He pulled it! He actually pulled it!”

NV’s tone was sharp, urgent. “Finish quickly. The Veil will eat him alive.”

Tanuki lunged. His daggers cut the air, and the cuts lingered as black seams that hung for a heartbeat before sliding toward Arsenyx like gravity itself had turned hostile.

Arsenyx intercepted with his glaive, but the seams bent around the blade, forcing him to twist, to adjust, to move in ways that broke his perfect rhythm.

For the first time, Arsenyx looked unsettled.

Tanuki layered the Veil with another draw. The card dissolved into light: The Shattered Citadel.

Crystal pillars erupted from the floor, not in a burst but in a corridor, jagged walls forming a narrow path. Arsenyx was forced into the channel, his movements constrained.

Tanuki darted forward, daggers flashing. He struck at the seams of Arsenyx’s armor, his wrist, elbow, hip had shallow cuts, but each one mattered. When sparks flew, HP dipped.

Arsenyx growled, low and dangerous. He spun his glaive, shattering the pillars, breaking free of the corridor. But Tanuki was already moving, already drawing.

The card dissolved: The Twin Flame.

Warmth surged through him, syncing his movements with Atlas’s thunderous encouragement and NV’s razor‑sharp clarity. His strikes flowed smoother, his dodges sharper. He pressed forward, daggers glowing with both shadow and light.

Arsenyx retaliated. His glaive swept in a brutal arc, the crimson edge blazing. Tanuki blocked with his daggers, but the force rattled his bones, his HP dipping further.

The predator had adjusted again. His strikes came faster, sharper, more precise. Tanuki parried, dodged, countered, but each exchange cost him. The Veil drained him, the glaive punished him, and his body screamed for relief.

I can’t stop now. If I stop, I lose.

He drew again. The card dissolved: The Dawnfire Crest.

Radiant light surged through him, burning away the Veil’s darkness for a heartbeat. His wounds eased, his daggers blazed with sunrise fire. He struck, carving across Arsenyx’s chest, deeper this time. The crowd erupted, disbelief echoing through the Theatre.

Arsenyx staggered, his HP dipping into the red.

The Coliseum held its breath.

Tanuki’s HP bled away under the Veil’s cost. Arsenyx’s HP hovered just above zero. Both fighters stood on the edge.

Arsenyx raised his glaive, crimson light blazing. “This ends now.”

Tanuki drew one last time. The card dissolved: The Turning Spire.

The floor shifted, tilting just enough to throw Arsenyx’s stance off balance. His glaive swing faltered by a fraction; but fractions were all Tanuki needed.

He lunged. His daggers crossed, carving an X across Arsenyx’s chest, right over the sternum seam. Sparks exploded, HP plummeted.

Arsenyx’s HP bar hit zero.

The system declared: “Victory: Tanuki.”

For a heartbeat, silence. Then the Citadel Theatre detonated into sound, cheers, screams, disbelief. Guild banners waved, betting boards recalculated, coins exchanged hands.

Atlas whooped so loud his audio clipped. “You did it! You actually did it!”

NV exhaled, her voice low but edged with satisfaction. “He adapted. He learned. He won.”

Tanuki stood in the dim glow of the fading Veil, his daggers trembling in his hands. His HP bar refilled as the system reset him, but the exhaustion lingered. He had risked everything, and for once, it had been enough.

Across the arena, Arsenyx stood tall, his glaive resting on his shoulder. His armor was scarred, his HP bar empty, but his posture was unshaken. He looked at Tanuki, calm, composed, and nodded once.

“You turned chaos into a plan,” he said. No mockery. No malice. Just acknowledgement.

Tanuki didn’t answer. Words would cost, and he had paid enough.

The system reset the arena. HP restored. Mana renewed. The Deck of Echoes quieted at his side, patient once more.

The aurora above shifted, cooler now, sharper, as if the sky itself knew what was coming.