Screams and rumbles echoed within the caves of Mt. Sononcoly.

  An existential struggle ensued between the black nailed Sentar’i and their black cloaked opponents. Chaos filled the tunnels.

  People fled. People chased. Rock walls were reduced to rubble thanks to the strength of missed punches or kicks. Blasts echoed. Rock crumbled. Bodies were beaten and bodies were lifeless.

  Streaks of red dotted the gray and brown sights. Daggers and sharp rocks imbrued with blood littered the rocky passages.

  One Sentar’i while in sprint down a chamber, collected such a weapon and in one motion, turned to thrust it through the throat of their Tyroviv pursuer.

  The Cosondere, a young lady, dropped to her knees as she cupped her bloodied neck. Just her beady eyes displayed the terror behind her mask. She collapsed to the ground. Motionless.

  The struggle carried on throughout the narrow tunnels and into open caverns. Hand to hand combat occurred everywhere regardless of safety.

  If the environment and each other weren’t hazardous enough, the destruction wrought from Sentar’i arts created new disasters.

  At the dead end of one tunnel, a blue bandanna-ed Tyroviv engaged with their enemy. While the black-nailed Sentar’i tried to slice and stab, their dagger continued to go through the ghost artist.

  After one particular miss, the Tyroviv saw his chance and wrapped his [Ghost Chain] around their foe’s neck.

  Seconds of struggle ticked by as they wrangled on the ground. The Black Nail’s face grimaced and clenched as they tried to break free. Soon their expression faded; they slumped over harmlessly.

  The Tyroviv phased out their [Chain] before he took one more look at his dead foe. A fatal decision.

  Without warning, the dead end busted out in an explosion beside him. Instantly, both he and his dead opponent fell buried beneath the crumbled rocks.

  A Neraviv bolted out from the blast, unbeknownst of their trapped colleague.

  In the midst of this confined chaos stepped Quin, whose heavy breaths muffled under his mask.

  As the screams of men and women traveled the narrow tunnels, he felt the air thin around him.

  His mind blank, horror consumed him to his very heart. Danger loomed everywhere and every step could be his last.

  Caution dictated his movements. He had yet to see the savagery of the fighting, but his ears certainly caught on.

  From one tunnel to the next, Quin traveled slowly with his head on a swivel.

  He was already at a disadvantage with his wind arts restricted. A foe who lunged from a blind spot would all but doom him right there and then.

  He made his way to a small cavern with another tunnel on the other side. Quin lifted his mask to get some air. Death and metal flew into his nose.

  He doubled over and gagged under the pungent stench before he straightened himself up.

  Just then, someone appeared from the other tunnel. Quin lowered his mask and steeled himself for the inevitable. It was time to do or die.

  Out of the other side emerged a familiar enemy. Braided hair that started to undo from the ends and a tattered shirt, Arthur made his way to the cavern.

  He and Quin stared at one another across the closed space.

  “You lot are doing us a good favor showing up to die,” Arthur said. He took small steps forward. “In the end, we’ll be doing everyone a favor for taking you off the map.”

  Quin said nothing and plodded close as he undid his bottom clasp. The two circled around each other.

  “People’re going to talk about what happened here today,” Arthur continued. “You cloaks have stayed past your welcome and when today ends, they’re going to see us on the right side of history.”

  “You’re either insane or stupid if you think you’re on the right side after Comi,” Quin snapped. “Innocent Sentar’i. Innocent Yerps. Why did they have to suffer if your problem’s only with the cloaks?”

  “You’re right, they are innocent. They’re both innocent people that had no choice but to bend to your whims. None of them wanted you in their town, but they had no choice.

  “If you cloaks weren’t so invasive and possessive, those folks would have been safe but instead, you used them as shields to protect your numbers. They were all unfortunate victims.”

  Yach popped into Quin’s mind.

  “Madness!! They were people who were minding their business when you stormed in and killed them with your poisons! None of you cared if they were Sentar’i, Yerps, or Cosondera. All you wanted to do was the most damage possible.

  “No one is going to think you’re heroes fighting on behalf of the weak. But everyone’s going to think you’re brigands who do whatever they want. If anyone’s undesirable, it’s you. The sooner you’re all dealt with for good, the better for us all. Sounds familiar?”

  Silence filled the cavern as the two foes simply stared at one another. The time for words had just passed.

  In a blink, the two charged forth, both intent to settle their feud.

  Quin and Arthur went at each other with a series of strikes to the face. Both deflected the other though; the sound of their blocks bounced off the cavern’s walls.

  Quin knew this fight couldn’t go the same way as the last two. To improve the lives of innocent Yerps, he had to prove himself right here and definitively win his fights.

  His mind and body shifted to defense and the prowess he cultivated began to show.

  Quin zipped away from every kick, curled underneath every punch, and twirled around Arthur until the latter slightly lost track of him.

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  Arthur tried to follow Quin and spun after him when his face felt the brunt of a sharp backhand.

  The smack echoed across the space as Arthur backed off to recompose. Quin spared him no time.

  The Tyroviv leaped in with a push kick, but Arthur sidestepped out of the way.

  He couldn’t avoid the tip of Quin’s elbow however, as it collided with his head. Arthur barely recovered when Quin planted one boot on his chest and the other on his face.

  Arthur flew across the cavern. He quickly sat up with panted breaths but went no higher as Quin stared him down.

  Quin adjusted and kept his cloak behind him with his left arm, it still felt weak after his earlier engagement.

  Despite that, his eyes never strayed from his opponent. Arthur slowly rose and the two stared each other again. Things didn’t seem dicey so far, but Quin couldn’t drop his guard.

  He charged at Arthur and went on the offensive this time. He pressed Arthur and put the Sentar’i on his back foot.

  His strikes didn’t slow down while Arthur neared a wall. An advantage seemed to be in Quin’s possession when Arthur landed a hand on his cloak.

  With a firm tug, Quin was jerked out of step. Before he knew it, he took a hard jab to the face.

  Quin stepped back, but Arthur yanked him forward and pelted him in the gut. A series of lefts and rights bumped his head from one fist to another.

  Some fights went in such a way. There were no rules nor violations. Just victory or defeat by any means, especially if the latter meant death.

  Arthur continued to have his way with Quin’s cloak when the Tyroviv thrust a shoulder at his opponent.

  Separation was finally created between the two and for good measure, Quin connected with a high side kick to Arthur’s jaw.

  The Sentar’i made contact with the ground a second time as Quin doffed his cloak. Arthur crawled back a few feet before he rose and scampered into the tunnel behind him.

  Quin found that unacceptable.

  He folded his cloak before he placed it at a corner. A new wave of determination grew inside him when he felt the sandals.

  For now, they were safer away from his person. Done, he raced down the tunnel after his enemy.

  It took no time for the two to meet up again, Arthur barely made it three quarters of the way. Their scrap recommenced with deflected and parried punches.

  Quin knew his wind arts were ineffective in the cave, but it was a curious mystery why Arthur hadn’t used his spatial arts.

  Perhaps like Quin, small spaces set a hard cap to Arthur’s abilities. If that was the case, then Quin felt like fortune favored him.

  Confidence filled the Tyroviv as he dodged a hook. While Arthur missed his opponent, he nailed the rock wall. It gave Quin the chance to nail some shots of his own.

  He unleashed a pair of alternate body blows to Arthur’s torso followed by an uppercut under his face.

  The Sentar’i returned to serve an elbow, but Quin ducked. Arthur went and thrust the other, the same result occurred.

  Back turned, Quin shot his leg up behind him and jolted the small of his foe’s back.

  Arthur remained on his feet but the kick’s force gave him a boost to skid out of the tunnel. Quin pursued after him once more.

  The Tyroviv noticed a corner to turn at the end and he slowed down to avoid some ambush.

  Quin made it out of the tunnel when he saw a Cosondere doubled up by Arthur and another opponent. He jumped in to assist when a metal object appeared in the corner of his view.

  The other black-nailed Sentar’i sported a dagger in his hand. Quin dropped low to dodge the blade.

  It was all he focused on as he avoided one slash after another. He created some distance between himself and his assailant when an instinct kicked in.

  As if by reflex, Quin’s leg launched up at his enemy’s hand and knocked their weapon up in the air. He grasped it before the Sentar’i and just like that, the tables had turned.

  Except, a sudden inactivity befell the Tyroviv. A critical moment arrived, yet Quin hesitated to make that move. His eyes lingered on the dagger, death never felt so close.

  It would get even closer.

  Eyes on the wrong sight, the Sentar’i had a chance to thrust a shoulder at Quin. The foe rammed their forearm up to Quin’s.

  The Tyroviv’s arm folded from contact and the dagger in his hand shot straight back up to his face.

  Quin used his weaker arm to halt the momentum, but it was too slow to save his mask. Pierced into an eye slot, a snap turn of Quin’s head nearly sliced the covering in two.

  A gaping hole took over a side of his second face. He felt no pain in his eye and could still see, though he could only guess the extent of the damage.

  He relinquished the weapon and his hands and mind could focus again. Quin let loose with cyclical punches at his opponent.

  The extra adrenaline gave his strikes a speed boost as he pummeled the Sentar’i against the wall until they slumped down unconscious.

  Quin snapped around when he was met with a solid hook. Arthur then sent a jab to the exposed side of Quin’s face. His mask cracked under the force.

  He tried to counter with his own hook punch, but Arthur avoided it. His mask sagged to the side and the distraction sapped him of his advantage.

  Arthur continued his onslaught of strikes. Kicks to the limbs, punches to the torso and face, Quin had no chance to recover let alone respond.

  Knocked back to the edge of a slope, disorientation circled Quin when a flying kick to the head sent him tumbling down.

  Quin and a bunch of pebbles rolled to a lower level of the cave. He found flat ground but lost his bearings.

  He got up to his hands and knees when his midsection took a vicious punt that sent him on his back.

  Completely out of it, Quin spun and crawled away to anything that could support him. Parts of his exposed face contorted with every exhale.

  Arthur simply followed after him at a leisurely pace. A huge smirk appeared on his face. He watched his opponent stop and rest by a stalagmite.

  “Look at you,” Arthur started with bewildered eyes. “You’re supposed to be the heroes? The big powerful force that makes the world better? No. This is what you cloaks really are. You’re all weak, but you think if you band together you’re unstoppable.”

  Quin sat up beside the stalagmite. His breaths exited through the large chasm of his mask as he stared intently.

  Arthur’s smirk evaporated, replaced with a rising scorn.

  “All you do is take. You take away the honor of a one on one fight. You take away the freedom of any Sentar’i unwilling to bend to your demands. You take away people who matter to us then call it ‘peace’.

  “The truth is nothing has changed since you lot showed up, but at least back then we were free. Free to make our own destinies. To make our own world with our own power. But like always, you cloaks have to take.

  “Well now it’s our turn to take and to make it all even, we’re going to take everything from you like you’ve taken everything from us. Starting with your lives.”

  Arthur charged at Quin and flew at him feet first to stamp the face. Given time to rest, Quin rolled out of the way and the stalagmite shattered under Arthur’s dropkick.

  In one motion, Quin spun back upright and ditched his broken mask. A small gash showed above his eye as a line of red trickled down the side of his face.

  It did little to change the intense stare he gave to Arthur.

  Yells and bellows filled the air as the two stared down once more before an eerie silence took over.

  The foes rushed each other with more strikes and more blocks. No longer distracted, Quin gave his opponent no openings all while he moved at a slightly faster pace.

  Quin clocked Arthur with a straight jab that knocked him and his head back. Quin couldn’t follow through as Arthur kept to his defense and continuously stepped back.

  Neither fighter paid attention to their surroundings as their battle took them to the edge of another slope.

  At least aware of the this new dip on the ground, the combatants kept their distance. Other events put a change to that.

  With no warning, a large rumble shook the cave. Quin and Arthur suddenly had to focus on keeping balance instead of their fight.

  They flailed their arms as they tried to steady themselves when another rumble shook them both down the slope.

  They rolled across the slanted ground and descended deeper down the cave. They finally landed on an even plane and rushed back to their feet.

  Arthur recovered first and before Quin knew it, he took a couple of haymakers that rocked him hard.

  He took several steps back, arms paralleled with his face. Sounds became muffled as the scene spun around in his head. Arthur sensed his moment.

  More deep swings connected as Quin backed up more and more. He had to turn the fight around and fast before things became desperate.

  As he brought his foot back, Quin felt nothing but air beneath it and realized the edge of another drop.

  This time no ground could be seen. There was a small path beside him with a wall to lean on, but it only had enough space to shimmy.

  Arthur never let up as he followed Quin along the very narrow edge and the two resumed their scrap, side by side, practically tangled together.

  They leaned back to the wall but there was no slope beneath them. Just like that, things became desperate.

  The two kept at it when Arthur slipped over the edge. Bunched up, both he and Quin failed to grab anything except each other and they both succumbed to gravity’s whim.