Plot Armor Is Overrated

Chapter 2: A Pawn Just Committed Regicide

He snarled, no, grinned, as if this whole thing was a game suddenly worth playing.

Nyx didn't let him find his rhythm again. She darted to the side, vanishing behind one of the shattered spires that dotted the arena's outskirts, pillars left over from gods who had fought here before them. She pressed her back to the stone, panting, blood dripping from her split lip onto the warm rock.

Now what will Nyx do?

She yanked a piece of her torn sleeve free and tied it around her left thigh, not to stop bleeding, too late for that, but to bind the muscle tight, keep it moving a little longer. Every heartbeat thudded in her skull. She peeked around the edge.

Lux stood in the open, scanning.

Waiting.

"Running now?" he called. His voice echoed too clearly in the vast bowl of the arena, a serpent made of sound. "Or are you going to keep playing mouse?"

She stayed silent.

He stepped forward, the glow of his form dimming slightly. Warier now. No longer confident in her movements. Good.

She darted left, low to the ground, grabbing a fistful of loose sand. Another spire offered momentary cover. She pressed against it, crouched, her breath shallow, every nerve waiting.

A flash of light, Lux, moving, fast.

She was already diving out, hurling the sand into the air. It caught the light, refracting in blinding little bursts. Lux raised an arm to shield his eyes, and she was there, sliding across the ground, sweeping his legs from under him with her entire body behind the motion.

He fell.

It wasn't clean, but it was effective. He crashed onto his back, breath exploding from his lungs in a stunned wheeze.

She pounced.

A flurry of wild, awkward blows rained down, elbows, fists, even the flat of her forearm smashing against his cheek. He blocked some, but not all. Her movements weren't pretty. They were jagged, desperate, each one an exhale of fury and survival.

Lux twisted under her, his glowing palm flaring, but she was already rolling off, putting distance between them again, vanishing behind another column. Keep moving. Never stay in one place long enough to become a target. That was the only rule now.

When she finally heard his voice again, it was different. Rougher. Not mocking.

"Clever," Lux said, brushing a smear of blood from his temple. "That... that was clever."

He sounded almost delighted.

Nyx crouched behind another pillar, fighting the urge to collapse.

He was enjoying this.

The idea should have terrified her. Instead, it steadied her.

She could work with that.

She kicked off from the pillar, but not toward him. No, around. She zigzagged between the debris, each movement random, erratic. Left. Right. Duck. Jump. A twist that looked like a retreat but turned into a slide forward. She used the terrain like a predator now, like a wolf in a crumbling forest, forcing her prey into choke points, traps.

Lux swung at where he thought she'd be, but hit air.

She dipped low, scraping her knuckles against stone as she spun, planting her heel and shoving upward in a rising uppercut. He caught the edge of it, his jaw snapping back, and she didn't stop, she turned the momentum into a backstep, ducked under his retaliatory swing, and slammed her elbow into the side of his ribs.