Chapter 213: Playti’s Over
There was one part Orion miscalculated though — the part where he failed to take into consideration that Sophia used two weapons.
He realized it too late, just as a dagger flew from her hands. It moved with a silent whoosh, and if not for the fact that Orion had Noctis — his wolf spirit sharpening his reflexes — he would have missed it. The dagger was quick, cutting a clean line through his sleeve.
He should have been annoyed for letting his guard down, but instead, he was impressed that she’d managed to pull sothing like that off.
The grin on his face widened — a slow, appreciative thing that told the watching crowd he liked the improv. The dagger had missed by a whisper, that hairbreadth margin that made the trainees collectively hold their breath.
The sa ones who had judged her group earlier, saying they wouldn’t stand a chance, were now completely silent, watching with rapt attention.
The group didn’t give Orion any ti to breathe. The mont he evaded the dagger, Dren attacked. It was like they moved in the sa heartbeat. He thrust his spear through an arc designed to skirt Orion’s hip.
The movent was clean and brave — it gave the young man a flicker of hope. Orion received the spear not with panic, but with a small, almost lazy redirection. He t the shaft with his palm and wrist, timing the contact so Dren’s montum carried him — but that was all it did. Dren couldn’t move him past the line he’d drawn.
Just then, Micah joined in, swinging his axe from the opposite side. The two attacked in unison, pressing Orion from both directions. For a shuddering instant, it looked as if the small scrap of dirt at Orion’s feet might give — as if this would be the mont they’d push him beyond the boundary.
The crowd of trainees gasped as one. Maybe this was it, they thought. Maybe they could actually win this.
But just as that thought passed through them, Orion laughed.
The sound fractured the tension like a stone through glass. It was quiet at first, then spread across the field. By the ti it reached its peak, it had turned into a full, hearty laugh — the kind that said he was genuinely enjoying himself.
"Why is he laughing?" one trainee whispered.
"I don’t know," another muttered. "Maybe because they’re doing well?"
"No," an archer said grimly, rembering his own session. "He’s laughing because he’s about to flip it on them. Like he did with us."
Orion grinned, teeth flashing. Then, with a wink at Sophia’s group, he said in a smooth, dangerous voice that sent a chill down Sophia’s spine,
"Playti’s over."
He rolled his shoulders once, twice, and suddenly everything the trainees thought they’d achieved beca the first step of a lesson.
He started with Dren.
Micah noticed too late and tried to move in to cover him, but Orion was faster. A swift kick to Micah’s side sent him tumbling backward. He coughed, the wind knocked out of him. It had been just a kick — yet it felt like getting hit by a boulder.
anwhile, Orion focused on Dren. The boy had improved drastically. His spear movents were sharper, his stances stronger. Orion saw the potential there — but potential wasn’t mastery.
He closed the distance with a small, efficient step — a move that looked calm but landed like a correction. His hand caught the shaft mid-motion, twisting. Dren stumbled as Orion placed a firm foot between his and stopped his montum completely.
"Anchor!" Orion barked — not unkindly, but firmly. "You’re launching, not planting. Power cos from weight, not from motion. You almost gave yourself away when you slipped earlier. If you’d used your anchor steps, you might’ve held longer."
Dren’s face flushed, his chest rising and falling fast. Orion’s expression softened slightly.
"You’ve improved," he told him. "You just need to improve more."
Then ca Micah again. Despite the pain, he refused to stay down. He lunged forward, swinging his axe in a low, deadly arc aid for Orion’s knees.
Orion pivoted with a grin. His movent was fluid, the kind that made strength look effortless. He intercepted the axe’s swing with a precise block, using the weapon’s haft as leverage against Micah’s wrists.
"Two hands," Orion said in that sa calm tone that was half command, half encouragent. "Let the axe be your partner. I told you to dance with it — you’re not dancing."
"I’m not a very good dancer," Micah admitted through gritted teeth.
Orion chuckled. "You know what I an. Your grip is good, your stance is strong, and you’ve got power — but that’s not enough. Don’t limit yourself to one hand. Let your hips move, use your legs for leverage. Let the weapon move with you, not against you."
Micah’s blade slid away, off-balance. He recovered with the stubbornness of soone who hated losing, and Orion could respect that. His correction, though painful, landed exactly where it was ant to — a lesson for later.
"And next ti," Orion added, "don’t focus so much on others that you forget yourself. Protect yourself as much as you protect them."
Micah nodded, chest heaving, acknowledging defeat. He and Dren had both been taken down.
Joren was next.
It seed Orion was determined to take them down one by one. He’d already handled two, but the others didn’t waver. Perseverance — that was what made one a good fighter.
Joren had no flashy attacks. It didn’t suit his fighting style. He was calm, deliberate, and clever with timing. He feinted to the right, then left, pulling Orion’s focus just long enough for Cat to co in heavy from the flank.
Their teamwork was smooth — Cat swung her axe in a wide, brutal arc that could have taken Orion’s shoulder clean off had it landed. Joren mirrored her motion, creating rhythm and space — one to attack, one to redirect. Together, they pushed him, step by step, toward the boundary.
Sophia caught the rhythm instantly. It was their opening. With a sharp breath, she shifted forward, ready to strike.
But Orion was faster.
He ducked beneath Cat’s swing with inhuman grace, one hand brushing the ground. He turned the movent into a spin that carried him between both Cat and Joren, his presence like a gust of cold wind.
In a blur, he tapped the haft of Cat’s axe upward, breaking her balance, and swept his leg across Joren’s stance. Both stumbled back — not badly hurt, but clearly outmatched.
"Good," Orion said, voice low but audible across the ring. "You almost had it. Joren, your timing was sharp. Cat, your strength was perfect. But you two waited for to react instead of forcing my reaction. Don’t chase rhythm; make it."
Cat groaned, rubbing her elbow. "You make it sound easy," she muttered.
Orion grinned. "It is easy when you’ve been hit enough tis."
That earned a short laugh from so of the trainees watching. Even Dren, still catching his breath, couldn’t help but smile.
Laia and Nia exchanged glances. They knew they were next.
Orion hadn’t even broken a sweat yet.
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