Games of Grit and Guile:
The crowd clustered like heat-seeking scavengers, drawn to violence, spectacle—and to Nyxia herself. She stood at the edge of the arena, wrapped in Boo's scandalous gift: a black, lace-trimmed swimsuit and a sheer robe clinging to damp skin. The robe barely qualified as coverage. With each breeze from the overhead turbines, it shifted and slipped, baring more than it concealed. Her arms crossed beneath her chest, stance wide, gaze locked on the goblin orchestrating the event like she was measuring how long it would take to drop him with a blade to the throat.
Perseus stood beside her, shoulders squared, jaw tight. He was trying very hard not to look directly at her.
"You don't have to do this," he said under his breath. His voice was steady, but the tension in his body betrayed him.
Nyxia didn't turn. "Do you have twelve hundred crowns hiding in those pockets?"
"You know I don't."
"Then I'm stepping into the ring."
He shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "You could wait. There might be another way."
She finally looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "When have you ever known me to wait for anything?"
He sighed, but didn't argue further.
Skivv sprang into the center stage like a goblin shot from a cannon, arms raised high. "Welcome, scoundrels and seekers! Misfits and murderlovers! This is the first ever Serath'Kai Skill Showdown! Three trials. No entry fee. All we need from you is grit, reflexes, and enough confidence to pretend you're not scared out of your boots!"
The crowd howled, hungry for action. Nyxia's mouth twitched upward. She thrived in this.
"Prize?" Skivv gestured dramatically behind him. "Armor fit for a godslayer! And maybe, just maybe, a little infamy!"
The first arena sparked to life. It was crude but effective—a rectangular ring of plasteel and scrap planks, lit with crackling magitech runes. Pillars around the edge buzzed with static, ready to punish mistakes.
"Trial One: Blade and Blink!"
The crowd responded with a collective oooooh.
Nyxia tilted her head. "Sounds like a bad date."
"Only if you mess up," Skivv replied. "We only had two testers explode during trials. One of them survived!"
"Reassuring," Perseus muttered.
A Vulpera assistant stepped forward, holding out twin sabers carved from duskbone. Their hilts shimmered with faint arcs of charge. Nyxia took them with no hesitation, gave each a lazy twirl, then dropped the robe.
Perseus looked away. Quickly. Then looked back.
The crowd practically leaned forward in unison. Every eye on her.
She stepped into the ring barefoot. The surface buzzed under her feet, pulsing with low energy. She lowered into a crouch, sabers ready.
A chime sounded. Then the arena burst to life.
Illusions blinked into existence, surrounding her in a tight formation—fifteen shifting bodies, fluid and genderless, flickering between forms, blades raised. It was chaos made precision.
The first strike came from behind. Nyxia spun, ducked, brought her left saber up in a tight arc—a hit. Sparks. Real.
The scoreboard lit up.
Two more circled. She pivoted, caught one in the ribs—wrong. The shock sent pain lancing up her side. She hissed.
Perseus tensed outside the ring, his grip on his hammer white-knuckled.
She didn't falter. Dropped low, slashed outward. Two illusions vanished. Two more formed.
Another hit to her thigh. This time, real blood joined the sweat slicking her legs. She didn't even glance down.
The tempo increased. She moved faster. Slicing, striking, stepping between projections and real threats like she was born for this. Her breathing deepened. Her jaw clenched.
Final wave. One illusion lunged at her, mimicking Perseus' stance. Her eyes narrowed.
She moved.
A perfect strike. Clean through the throat.
The simulation ended.
The crowd exploded.
She stepped off the platform, staggering slightly. Blood ran freely down her leg. Perseus was there instantly, catching her elbow. His hand was warm, grounding.
"You okay?"
She smirked, lips parted from effort. "You just wanted an excuse to touch me."
"Can you blame me?"
She didn't answer. Didn't pull away either.
Skivv clapped his hands. "Trial Two: Catch the Cograt!"
The second arena spun into place. Smaller. Tighter. A series of rotating platforms and narrow beams stretched across a pit of softly glowing light. Steam hissed from vents in timed intervals. At the center, an automaton shaped like a grotesque rodent twitched and sparked.
Skivv gestured to it. "Catch the rat, make it to the other side. Drop it? Start over. Get crushed? We scrape you up. Easy!"
Nyxia climbed in. So did her opponent—a burly goblin woman with a busted nose and forearms like battering rams.
"She bites," Skivv noted cheerfully.
The horn blew.
Nyxia launched. The first vent hissed. She jumped sideways, landed hard, almost lost her footing. The Cograt darted. She gave chase.
The goblin barreled after it, arms swinging, mouth open in a wordless roar.
Nyxia was faster.
She cornered the Cograt. Reached. Missed.
The goblin tackled it. Nyxia tackled her.
They rolled. Fought. The automaton screamed and bolted.
Again.
Both leapt. Both grabbed it. For a split second, they clung to it together, snarling.
Nyxia twisted, hauled the Cograt above her head, and hurled it toward the finish.
It slammed into the buzzer.
BOOM. Confetti everywhere.
The goblin groaned, sprawled on her back. Then she started laughing.
"Hell of a throw," she said.
Nyxia offered her a hand. The goblin took it.
Skivv practically vibrated. "Final round, folks! The Truth Gauntlet."
The final arena was nothing. No gears. No illusions. Just silence.
A hooded elder stepped forward, robes dragging. He placed a crystal orb on a worn pedestal.
Nyxia limped over. Sat.
The orb pulsed.
Voice like wind: "What did you lose that you still grieve?"
She closed her eyes. Her voice broke, just a little.
"My mother. I don't remember her face. Only how she smelled. Like tea leaves. Firewood."
The orb pulsed.
Accepted.
"What do you fear most?"
She opened her eyes, looked down at the blood on her leg.
"Being left behind again."
Perseus watched, not blinking.
The orb brightened.
Final question.
"Would you trade your life… to save hers?"
No name. No hint.
But she looked at Perseus.
And said, without hesitation: "Yes."
The orb shattered. Light filled the air. The crowd held its breath.
Then erupted.
Skivv jumped onto a crate. "We have our champion!"
The tarp dropped. The armor was everything she'd hoped.
Void-black leather. Reinforced dusksteel. Shadow-threaded glyphs that shimmered just beneath the surface.
Nyxia reached out. Ran her fingers across the chestplate. It was warm. Alive.
She slipped into it. It hugged every curve, every bruise, like it belonged to her.
She turned. Her gaze found Perseus.
"Get my boots."
He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
Skivv laughed softly, almost a whisper.
"Careful what you wear, girl."
Nyxia didn't flinch. Didn't smile. Just stood there, panting, victorious, and deadly.
And for the first time in weeks, she looked whole.