Chapter 30: Discharge.

Kara saw the opportunity and activated her electric strike once again.

Kara: "Discharge, 80%."

But before the surge of electricity could reach him, Dante thrust his left hand forward, releasing the rapier he had been holding, and stepped back just enough to move out of the attack's effective range. Kara hadn't expected this move at all. To pull it off required timing so precise it bordered on perfection. If he dodged too late, he'd still be caught by the strike — its arcs of lightning could spread up to a meter through the air. But if he dodged too early, Kara would simply cancel the attack and close in at her blinding speed to land the blow anyway.

Dante's strategy remained the same — force his opponent to expend their ultimate moves, wear them down, and seize the advantage. He counted himself lucky that he hadn't been taken down by that initial strike.

He glanced toward Kara, half-expecting to see the familiar look of frustration — that bitter disappointment every opponent showed when their "guaranteed hit" failed them. It was a sight he'd seen again and again throughout the tournament: clenched jaws, narrowed eyes, faces contorted in disbelief as their sure-kill attacks missed. Over time, waiting for that expression had become a dark little habit of his. Each time he saw it, a strange satisfaction washed over him — a small burst of dopamine that left him oddly content.

But this time, there was no frustration, no flicker of doubt. Instead, Kara's eyes gleamed with excitement, her lips curved in a fierce grin.

'Good... A worthy opponent at last. Someone who won't crumble so soon. This will make it even sweeter when I finally see that look on her face.' A small smile tugged at Dante's mouth. Her expression reminded him of Kaela. Maybe that was what made both of them such formidable fighters — that refusal to give in.

During his earlier matches, Dante had wondered why no one ever carried a handheld shield as a substitute for a shield component. Later, after observing and reflecting, he realized the reason. Fighters at higher levels — the circuits and the cores — didn't need physical shields. Their barrier components were far superior. What mattered most at that level was mobility and the ability to focus defense on a single vulnerable point, not spreading protection thin. After all, seasoned opponents always aimed for the weak spot.

As for Dante, without any mentor to teach him, everything he knew came from keen observation. And he didn't bother with a handheld shield — his style depended on not getting hit at all. A shield would only slow him down.

Returning his attention to the fight.

If this battle dragged on, Kara would simply keep shocking him again and again. Unlike Kaela, Dante didn't have the same level of physical endurance. He couldn't afford to let this match stretch out any longer. Now was the time to strike, to wound her and slow her down. She'd unleashed two powerful electric attacks already, but Dante wasn't about to assume her essence reserves were running low. He remembered her match with Kaela — Kara could still have plenty left in the tank. Still, after back-to-back heavy discharges, he'd noticed she needed time to charge a third.

This was his opening.

Dante surged forward, channeling all his strength into his legs, and swung his baseball bat in a powerful arc toward Kara.

Kara wasn't caught off-guard. She was clever — and faster than him. Like Austor had done in a previous match, she tried to kite him: retreating while swinging her rapier in a wide horizontal slash, the kind that was nearly impossible to dodge at close range. She executed the move with practiced precision, textbook-perfect. But—

Dante saw it coming. His left hand made a sharp tugging motion as he kept pressing forward, swinging his bat with full force, ignoring the slash aimed at his side.

Kara, retreating and focused on controlling the space, suddenly felt resistance at her ankle — something was snagged. She couldn't back away.

The bat cut through the air, aimed for her head. At the last second, her rapier's slash grazed Dante's side, but it was light, a weapon designed for thrusting, not slashing. The damage was minimal, absorbed easily by his shield component.

Kara twisted aside, narrowly avoiding a direct hit, but the bat struck her shoulder — the arm holding the rapier.

Dante had planned for this. He knew she was fast enough to dodge a headshot; he'd aimed to clip the arm that wielded her blade. A single well-placed blow to tip the balance in his favor.

Kara cried out, pain ripping through her as the force of the strike jarred her weapon loose. She staggered, then unleashed a desperate surge of electricity.

Kara: "Discharge overload!"

The attack came faster than Dante could react. The electricity coursed through him, agonizing and brutal. His muscles locked, his vision blurred. He clenched his jaw, refusing to cry out, but the pain drove him back a step, then another.

Within moments, the world turned to fog. His sight dimmed, everything around him seemed distant, muffled — as if he were peering through frosted glass. The sounds of the arena echoed strangely, and the burning in his body dulled his thoughts. He couldn't even muster an expression; his mind felt sluggish, adrift.

From the outside, Dante looked hollow — his face vacant, his gaze searching the haze for something unseen. Slowly, he reached out with one trembling hand while the other gripped his bat, grounding him, keeping him upright.

He had to brace himself against the weapon to avoid collapsing. A second or two passed; shapes began to return through the mist, the world slowly sharpening at the edges. But his mind was still struggling to fully reengage.

Meanwhile, Kara clutched her injured shoulder, the arm useless for the moment. Worse, it seemed her own discharge attack had backfired slightly, leaving her shaken. Grimacing, she bent down, picked up her rapier with her left hand, and started toward Dante. He was maybe four or five meters away — swaying, disoriented, like he was trying to move but unsure where to go.

Step by step, Kara closed the distance, lifting the blade, focusing all the strength she could muster into her off-hand. She lunged, aiming the tip straight for Dante, who still hadn't fully regained his senses.