Mark stepped into the ring, shadows already curling at his feet as the energy barrier activated around them.
Lyra cracked her knuckles, the faintest shimmer of light distortion flickering around her fingertips. She wasn’t even trying yet.
The moment the match started, Mark moved first. He wasn’t about to let her dictate the pace.
A burst of shadow surged toward her, twisting and lashing like spears, aiming to box her in before she could react—
But she was already gone.
In an instant, her entire form shimmered, scattering into refracted light and reappearing just outside his attack range.
Mark barely had time to react before a thin beam of condensed light lashed across his arm, dissipating his shadows before they could take shape.
Lyra smirked. “Gonna have to be faster than that, Mark.”
Mark clenched his jaw. Every time.
He shifted, adjusting his stance. Adapt. Don’t react.
A new strategy—he sent his shadows outward, not as an attack, but as a veil, cutting off her direct sightline. If she couldn’t see clearly, she couldn’t counter instantly.
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For a moment, it worked—Lyra hesitated, just slightly, scanning through the thickened darkness—
Then she smiled.
Light erupted from her in a pulse, illuminating the entire ring, banishing every trace of shadow.
Mark cursed and instinctively dodged, but she was already moving, closing the distance in a single step.
A blinding flash—and suddenly, she was behind him.
A tap on his shoulder.
"Tag. You're out."
Mark sighed, rubbing his face. He hated sparring against her.
Lyra stepped back, crossing her arms. "You know, for someone who overthinks everything, you really don’t think about how you fight me."
Mark frowned. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
She gestured lazily. "Every time we spar, you do the same thing—try to block my vision, try to pin me down, try to overpower me. But Mark… you can’t overpower light."
Mark scowled. "So what? Just accept that I’ll always lose?"
Lyra tilted her head. "No, dumbass. It means you have to fight smarter."
She took a step forward, pointing at his chest. "You rely too much on making people play your game. That works against most people. But against me? Light moves too fast. It doesn’t wait. If you try to react, you’re already behind."
Mark furrowed his brows. "Then what do I do?"
Lyra shrugged. "Think differently. Stop treating your shadows like weapons and start treating them like movement. You always play defense first. You wait for people to act, then counter. But that’s not gonna work on someone faster than you."
Mark absorbed the words, silent.
Lyra grinned. "See? That’s the look of someone realizing I’m right."
He exhaled, shaking his head. "You're insufferable."
"And you need to loosen up. But hey, maybe next time, you’ll actually land a hit."
Mark snorted. "Next time, I will."
Lyra smirked, but there was something else behind it. A flicker of approval.
“Good. I’d hate for you to stay predictable forever.”