Krost pulled a small knife from his belt. The blade was about six inches long. Made of simple steel. He held it low and started circling.

  Malek grabbed two vials from his own belt. Red liquid in one. Clear liquid in the other. He uncorked both and poured them onto the ground in front of him.

  The liquids mixed and started bubbling immediately. White smoke rose from the mixture.

  Krost charged through the smoke.

  He was fast.

  Malek backpedaled and threw another vial at the ground between them. This one shattered and released a thick oil that spread across the dirt. Krost front foot hit the oil and slipped. He didn't fall but he had to slow down to keep his balance.

  That bought Malek three seconds.

  He used them to pull out a small clay pot and smash it on the ground near his feet. Brown powder exploded outward in a cloud. Malek held his breath and moved left, circling away from where the powder was thickest.

  Krost ran into the cloud. He coughed immediately. His eyes watered. The powder was an irritant which make the body extremely uncomfortable.

  Malek pulled out two more vials while Krost was distracted. He uncorked them both and mixed the contents in his hand. The mixture turned bright orange and started getting hot. He had maybe five seconds before it burned his palm.

  He threw it.

  The orange liquid flew through the air and splattered across Krost's shoulder. It stuck to his clothes and started smoking. Krost yelled and frantically brushed at it. The mixture wasn't acidic but it was hot enough to hurt through fabric.

  Malek used the distraction to create distance. He ran to the other side of the arena.

  But Krost recovered faster than expected. His eyes were still red and watering but he could see well enough. He wiped his face with his sleeve and adjusted his grip on the knife.

  He charged again.

  Malek threw three vials in quick succession. They shattered in front of Krost and released different colored smokes. Red. Blue. Yellow. The smokes mixed together and created a wall of multicolored fog.

  Krost didn't slow down. He ran straight through it.

  It was a bad choice.

  The blue smoke was a sedative. Not strong enough to knock someone out but enough to make them drowsy and slow their reactions.

  Krost stumbled as he emerged from the fog. His movements were still quick but less coordinated. He shook his head like he was trying to clear it.

  Malek didn't have many vials left. Maybe six. He needed to make them count.

  He pulled out a glass sphere filled with gray powder. He threw it high into the air above Krost. The sphere hit the ground behind Krost and shattered. The sphere exploded outward in all directions.

  Flash Bomb.

  Bright light filled the arena for a split second. Every candidate watching flinched. Krost threw his free hand up to cover his eyes but he was too slow. He stumbled backward, temporarily blinded.

  Malek ran forward.

  He moved to Krost's left side and threw another vial at the ground. This one released a sticky foam that expanded rapidly. It wasn't strong enough to trap someone but it would slow them down.

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  Krost's left foot landed in the foam. He tried to pull it free but the foam clung to his boot. He yanked harder and managed to rip his foot loose but it cost him time.

  His vision was clearing. He could see again.

  And he looked angry.

  He moved forward. Slower this time. More cautious. The sedative was still affecting him but he was pushing through it.

  Malek threw a vial directly at Krost's chest.

  Krost swung his knife and knocked the vial out of the air. It shattered against the blade and released a caustic liquid. Some of it splashed onto Krost's hand. He hissed in pain but didn't drop the knife.

  He kept coming.

  Malek grabbed his last clay pot and threw it at Krost's feet.

  The pot shattered. Black oil spilled out. Much thicker than the first oil he'd used.

  Krost's boot landed in it and stuck. He tried to pull free but this oil was adhesive. It held his foot in place.

  Malek scrambled backward and pulled out his second-to-last vial. Purple liquid. He uncorked it and poured half of it onto his hand. It tingled against his skin. Numbing agent. He poured the other half onto a strip of cloth he pulled from his pocket.

  Krost was still trying to free his foot. The black oil was stubborn. He pulled harder and his boot started to tear.

  Malek wrapped the cloth around his hand and charged.

  It was risky. Stupid, even. But he was out of options.

  He got within range and swung his wrapped fist at Krost's jaw.

  Krost blocked it with his forearm. The knife was still in his other hand. The impact jarred Malek's entire arm. Krost was stronger than him.

  But the numbing agent worked.

  Krost's forearm where Malek's fist had connected went limp. The cloth had transferred the agent through contact. Krost's eyes widened in surprise. He tried to move his arm but it wasn't responding.

  The knife clattered to the ground.

  Malek pressed the advantage. He grabbed another vial. His last one. He uncorked it with his teeth and threw the contents at Krost's face.

  Krost closed his eyes but some of the liquid got through. It was a powerful irritant. His eyes immediately started burning and tearing up. He stumbled backward and finally ripped his foot free from the oil.

  But he was off balance and now blinded. His one arm was numb.

  Malek grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it at Krost's face. Then another handful. It wasn't alchemical. Just dirt. But it added to the confusion.

  Krost swung wildly with his good arm. Malek ducked under it and kicked at Krost's knee.

  The kick connected. Not hard enough to damage anything but enough to make Krost stumble.

  He went down to one knee.

  Malek was breathing hard. He had nothing left. No vials. No powders. No tricks.

  But Krost was down. If Malek could just keep him down for a few more seconds—

  Krost's eyes cleared.

  The irritant was wearing off. Faster than Malek expected. Krost blinked hard several times and his vision focused on Malek.

  His expression was cold.

  He pushed off the ground with his good arm and lunged forward.

  Malek tried to dodge but he was too slow.

  Krost's shoulder slammed into Malek's chest. The impact drove all the air from Malek's lungs. He flew backward and hit the ground hard. His head bounced off the packed dirt and his vision blurred.

  He tried to get up but his body wasn't responding right. Everything felt heavy and distant.

  Krost stood over him. His numb arm was starting to move again. The numbing agent was wearing off. He flexed his fingers slowly.

  Malek reached for his belt. Maybe there was something he'd forgotten. Some vial he'd missed.

  Nothing.

  He was empty.

  Krost raised his fist.

  "Yield!" one of the instructors shouted.

  Malek heard the word but it took a moment to process. He looked up at Krost. At the fist raised above him.

  He raised his hand in Surrender.

  "Match over. Winner: Krost."

  Krost lowered his fist and stepped back. His breathing was heavy. His clothes were stained with various chemicals. His eyes were still red from the irritants. His left arm hung awkwardly at his side, still partially numb.

  He gave a Malek a good hard look. Before he was out of the arena.

  Someone helped Malek to his feet. He wasn't sure who. Everything felt fuzzy.

  He walked out of the arena on unsteady legs. His chest hurt where Krost had hit him. His head throbbed where it had struck the ground.

  He found his seat and sat down heavily. Elara was looking at him with concern but she didn't say anything.

  Malek stared at the arena floor. He'd lost. He needed two wins to get into the Institute. Now he needed to win his next matches.

  He took a slow breath and forced himself to focus.

  The matches continued.

  Fourth match. Fifth match. Sixth match.

  Malek watched each one but barely processed what he was seeing. His head still hurt. His thoughts were scattered.

  Then came the seventh match.

  "Elara versus Cassim. Enter the arena."

  Elara rose and glanced once at Malek before climbing down into the fighting pit.

  Her opponent was already there. Cassim was a broad-shouldered boy with dark hair and a confident stance. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles as Elara approached.

  They faced each other across the arena.

  Malek leaned forward slightly. His headache faded into the background.

  "Begin!"

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