Plot Armor Is Overrated

The taste of blood was a familiar one, a metallic echo in Nyx's mouth, mingling with the gritty dust of the arena. Each breath was a battle, a searing agony that tore through her damaged ribs. Lux, the golden bastard, stood opposite her, a beacon of arrogant invincibility. He was too fast, too strong, his light-based abilities a perfect counter to everything she was. But he had underestimated one thing: the sheer, unadulterated fury of a creature backed into a corner.

"Still going, I see," Lux taunted, the golden light of his form intensifying, almost blinding. A drop of blood, her blood, trickled down his jaw, a testament to the scratch she'd managed to land. "Impressive. But ultimately futile."

He lunged, a blur of motion, his glowing blade a silver flash. Nyx ducked under the strike, the air whistling past her ear. Her body screamed in protest, muscles burning, bones protesting with every movement. She twisted, trying to find an opening, a weakness, anything. Nothing.

Lux was a wall of light, a force of nature.

She barely dodged another blow, the impact of his fist slamming into her shoulder. A fresh wave of pain ripped through her, and she stumbled, barely able to keep her footing. The arena floor, a vast expanse of sun-baked stone, was no longer just a stage for her suffering; it was her battlefield.

She had to make it work for her.

With a guttural grunt, she angled herself toward the crater, the remnants of their earlier collision. She needed to create space, to use the terrain. She needed to think, and all her brain wanted to do was scream.

Lux anticipated her movement, cutting her off. He was too quick to let her get away. Another kick landed in her side, and she was sent sprawling, crashing into the edge of the crater. The impact stole what little breath she had left.

This was it.

This was the end.

She saw the flash of the blade. The golden gleam of his eyes as he brought the sword down.

But she didn't flinch.

Instead, at the very last moment, she rolled, her body a whirlwind of pain and desperation. The blade whistled past her, embedding itself deep into the lip of the crater. Lux cursed, tugging at the hilt, trying to dislodge his weapon.

It was a gamble, a desperate maneuver.

And it worked.

She saw her opportunity. With a surge of adrenaline, she scrambled to her feet, her vision swimming, and lunged, a broken thing transformed into a predator.

Her fist connected with Lux's jaw, a satisfying crack echoing through the arena. He staggered back, surprise etched on his features. It was a paltry blow, a desperate act, but it was enough.

The crater's edge crumbled beneath Nyx's feet as she launched herself forward, not with grace, but with intent. Blood smeared across her chin, caking in the dust that clung to her sweat-slicked skin. Her ribs screamed, her vision ghosted at the edges, but she moved.

Lux recovered faster than she wanted. He always did. Yanking his blade free from the stone with a sharp tug, he spun, expecting her to be directly in front of him, she wasn't.

She was already behind him.

He turned too late. A rock the size of a skull struck the back of his knee, a hastily grabbed projectile hurled not for damage, but for disorientation. He buckled slightly, just enough. Nyx was already on him, ducking low and slamming her shoulder into his gut. The hit lacked strength, but the angle and surprise did the work. Lux staggered back, skidding through the dust.