The first strike came before Alex could fully process the Warden's movement.

The massive axe carved through the air with impossible speed for something so large, the blade trailing essence that distorted space itself. Alex's Phantom Step activated on pure instinct, his body flickering from the visible spectrum as the weapon passed through where he'd been standing.

The shockwave alone sent him tumbling across the adaptive floor, his restored body screaming protest as kinetic force translated into bruising impact. Stone cracked where the axe struck, and Alex caught a glimpse of the weapon's true nature not just metal and bone, but something that had been fed essence for centuries until it had become a living extension of its wielder.

**[Combat Echo Analyzing...]**

**[Warning: Opponent Speed Exceeds Predicted Parameters]**

**[Recalculating...]**

Alex rolled to his feet, fire erupting from both palms as he launched a barrage of flame constructs. The spiraling patterns he'd learned from his duplicate, refined through weeks of arena combat, converged on the Warden from multiple angles simultaneously.

The massive creature didn't dodge. Its free hand swept through the air, and a barrier of solidified essence materialized crude compared to Dirk's sophisticated constructs, but effective. Alex's flames splashed against it like water against stone, dispersing harmlessly while the Warden advanced with measured confidence.

"Kresh-vel thurvani mekthari-zhel vorthak nakul," the Warden rumbled, its burning eyes tracking Alex with predatory focus. "Thuul mek-zhani kol vorth-nakul kresh."

The Warden's axe came down again, and this time Alex couldn't fully evade. The blade's edge caught his shoulder as he twisted away, carving through flesh and scraping bone. Blood sprayed hot across his face, and the pain was exquisite not just physical damage, but something in the weapon itself that burned like acid in the wound.

**[HP: 103/120]**

**[Warning: Essence-Draining Weapon Detected]**

**[Wound Regeneration: IMPAIRED]**

Alex created distance with another Phantom Step, his hand pressed against the bleeding shoulder. The wound wasn't healing at its normal rate whatever malevolent energy the axe carried was interfering with his Enhanced Recovery.

'Eight seconds in, and I'm already wounded. The power differential is even worse than the numbers suggested.'

The Warden pressed forward, and Alex was forced into pure defensive combat. Fire barriers erupted between them, buying precious seconds as he tried to create tactical advantages. But the Warden simply smashed through each construct with mechanical efficiency, its essence reserves so vast that Alex's attempts at attrition were meaningless.

A sweeping strike forced Alex to leap backward onto one of the elevated platforms. The moment his boots touched stone, the surface liquefied beneath him the arena's adaptive systems responding to the Warden's will, turning the environment itself into a weapon.

Alex fell through semi-solid stone, his fire manipulation the only thing keeping him from being completely swallowed. He superheated the material around him, creating enough thermal expansion to force himself back to the surface, coughing and covered in stone dust that mixed with blood from his still-bleeding shoulder.

**[HP: 98/120]**

**[Stamina: 11/15]**

The Warden stood above him on solid ground, its massive form silhouetted against the arena's artificial twilight. When it spoke, there was no malice in its voice just the clinical assessment of a superior predator evaluating wounded prey.

"Kresh-vel mekthari vorthak-thuul. Zhel nakul-vorth mek-zhani thurvani keth."

**[Translation: "Fire-warrior demonstrates adaptation capabilities. But adaptation requires time, and this one will not provide it."]**

The axe descended like a falling mountain, and Alex barely rolled aside before the blade split stone where his head had been. Fragments pelted his back, some sharp enough to draw blood through his tattered prison clothes. He came up in a crouch, fire lance already forming in his good hand, and drove it toward the Warden's exposed knee joint.

The technique was perfect Combat Echo had identified the vulnerable point, his aim was precise, the thermal concentration enough to melt steel. But the Warden's free hand caught his wrist mid-strike with crushing force.

The pain was immediate and overwhelming. Alex felt bones grinding together, felt his fire manipulation destabilizing as the Warden's essence actively suppressed his ability at the point of contact. His flame lance sputtered and died, leaving him helpless in the creature's grip.

"Vorthak-zhel mekthari kresh. Thuul-nakul vorth mek-zhani. Kol-vorth thurva nakul-mek zhel."

**[Translation: "Power without foundation. Technique without strength. The fire burns bright but consumes nothing of substance."]**

The creature hurled him across the arena with contemptuous ease. Alex's body tumbled through the air, his enhanced perception cataloging every rotation, every impact point on his trajectory toward the far wall. He tried to arrest his momentum with fire propulsion, but his damaged shoulder made the technique unstable.

He struck stone with bone-jarring force, the impact driving the air from his lungs. His vision went white, then red, then fragmented into disconnected images as his brain struggled to process the trauma. Blood ran from his nose, his mouth, his ears the telltale signs of internal bleeding that even his Enhanced Recovery would struggle to address while under active combat stress.

**[HP: 76/120]**

**[Warning: Multiple Internal Injuries Detected]**

**[Recommended Action: IMMEDIATE RETREAT]**

Alex slid down the wall, leaving a crimson smear on stone that had witnessed countless similar deaths. His body was failing faster than he'd anticipated. The Warden's raw power was simply too overwhelming every exchange left him more damaged while the creature remained untouched.

The crowd's rhythmic sound had transformed into something that felt like anticipation. Not bloodlust exactly, but the collective attention of beings who recognized they were witnessing something significant a human pushing beyond his limitations, even as those limitations were systematically revealed.

The Warden approached with deliberate slowness, its axe dragging across the arena floor and leaving a groove in the adaptive stone. Alex tried to stand, managed to get one knee under him before his legs gave out entirely. His good arm trembled as he created a weak flame in his palm more defiance than threat.

"Mek-thuul vorthak kresh-vel nakul," the Warden said, raising its axe for what was clearly meant to be the finishing blow. "Zhel-korth mekthari vorthak-zhel thurvani. Kresh-vel thuul mek-zhani nakul vorth keth."

**[Translation: "This one respects courage. But the Grand Arena does not reward courage alone. Fire-warrior has demonstrated insufficient power for this challenge."]**

The axe began its descent, and Alex's fragmented consciousness processed the mathematics of failure. No escape route available. No technique remaining that could bridge the power gap. No miraculous reversal waiting in his arsenal.

He'd gambled everything on this fight, and he was about to lose.

The blade fell like judgment made manifest, the edge catching light from his dying flame as it carved through the space where his head—

Alex's Phantom Step activated one final time.

Not away from the blade, but into it. His body flickered through the visible spectrum at the exact moment of contact, the technique he'd been refining since the Void Stalker battle now pushed to its absolute limit. The axe passed through his afterimage while his actual form rematerialized six inches to the left, so close to the blade's passage that he felt the displaced air like a slap.

And in that microsecond when the Warden was fully committed to the downward strike, when its balance was compromised by the expected impact that never came, when its essence was focused entirely on the killing blow Alex struck.

Not with fire. Not with any of the techniques he'd demonstrated throughout the arena battles. But with his fist, augmented by every point of enhanced Strength his advancement had granted, driven by desperation and the absolute certainty that he would get no second chance.

His knuckles connected with one of the Warden's burning eyes.

The impact was nothing compared to the creature's overwhelming power barely enough to rock its massive head backward. But the eye itself, that sensory organ that had tracked countless prisoners through three centuries of arena combat, *cracked*.

Not destroyed, but damaged. A hairline fracture spider-webbing across the burning surface, black ichor leaking from the compromised tissue.

The Warden stumbled backward, its free hand flying to its wounded eye. When it pulled the hand away, dark fluid dripped from its fingers the first time Alex had seen it bleed.

"Thuul-kresh!" the creature's voice carried genuine shock. "Mek-zhani vorthak-zhel nakul! Kresh-vel thurvani..."

**[Translation: "Impossible! No prisoner has ever... Fire-warrior has..."]**

Alex collapsed to his hands and knees, coughing blood onto the arena floor. His fist was broken he'd felt multiple bones shatter on impact with the Warden's skull. His HP was critical, his stamina nearly depleted, his Enhanced Recovery struggling to keep pace with accumulated damage.

But the eye was damaged.

And for the first time since the battle began, the Arena Warden looked at him not with clinical assessment, but with something approaching *concern*.

**[HP: 71/120]**

**[Critical Status: Multiple Systems Failing]**

The Warden touched its damaged eye again, black ichor continuing to leak down the side of its scarred face. When its remaining good eye met Alex's gaze, it carried an expression he hadn't seen before not fear exactly, but recognition. Recognition that this wounded human had just done something that three centuries of prisoners hadn't achieved.

He'd made the guardian *bleed*.

The crowd had gone completely silent. Even the Shadeborn spectators' rhythmic vibrations had ceased, leaving only the sound of Alex's ragged breathing and the steady drip of blood both his and the Warden's hitting the arena floor.

Above them, the Master leaned forward in its throne, and Alex felt the weight of its attention like physical pressure against his consciousness.

The wounded Warden straightened slowly, its massive form still radiating overwhelming power despite the damaged eye. When it spoke again, its voice carried a different quality no longer the clinical assessment of a jailer, but something closer to genuine respect.

"Kresh-vel mekthari nakul-vorth thuul," it rumbled, adjusting its grip on the axe. "Zhel-korth vorthak mek-zhani keth nakul. Thurvani kresh-vel zhel-mori."

The creature raised its axe again, but this time its posture was different more cautious, more deliberate. It was no longer fighting a prisoner to be eliminated, but an opponent who had proven they could wound even an SS-Class guardian.

Alex forced himself to his feet, swaying dangerously as his broken body protested every movement. His shattered fist hung useless at his side, and blood continued to leak from his shoulder wound. His essence reserves were still substantial, but his physical form was approaching complete failure.

And the Warden, despite its damaged eye, was still an SS-Class entity operating at nearly full combat capacity.

The mathematics of survival had become even more impossible than before.

But Alex had proven something crucial the guardian could bleed.

Which meant it could be beaten.

Now he just had to figure out how to do it before his body gave out entirely.

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