He cut the distance and pressed a basic three-count: high slash, low thrust and a shouldercheck with the hilt. I took the last hit to not give up my stance, then Leap Attacked backward to get some distance between us, and find a better angle. He didn’t chase blindly. He drifted, easing left, trying to keep up.

  "Patient," I said under my breath, drawing. "Good."

  He flicked his wrist. I saw nothing, but soon after my boot found it out for me.

  Tripwire!

  The world tilted. I broke the fall with my hand, rolled and heard his feet arrive a fraction of a second later; two soft steps and the sound every ranger hates: the vacuum silence before a Backstab!

  I twisted and threw my bow across the line of approach. The black dagger met hardwood with a crack that numbed my palm. He flowed through, trading the deep vital for two shallow hits: hip and oblique. They hurt anyway.

  My HP was shaved down; not critical, but nothing to ignore.

  "Excellent snare layering!" Virtue shouted. "Tripwire into Backstab is textbook. Orion's counter was smart though; interpose the bow rather than chase the blade. Still, blocking with a bow is highly ineffective as per the system, so it must have still hurt."

  "Fan of Arrows!"

  I pulled the bow back into my hands, planted a heel, and opened the cone at five paces. At this distance it was less a spray and more a shredding hinge. Four found leather, two found the cloak, one found his arm while the last was blocked by the white dagger.

  He answered with Quick Step into Shadowstrike. No cooldown hesitation, just clean sequencing. He aimed the re-entry for my left ribs. I used my own Quick Step through his shoulder instead of away, stole inside line, and shoved the bow’s lower limb against his hip to bump him off balance. It worked, sort of. Enough to deny the big chunk.

  We broke again.

  Sand rasped under both of us as we circled, the arena narrowing by inches as the crowd leaned closer. The ref even had to warn the observers. I fired a shot to test, but he cross-parried with both blades, black and white forming an X that spat the arrow skyward, making the damage negligible. His equipment was top notch, too.

  His basics came back nastier: tap, tap, stab, then a heel kick to the knee to make the next cut land. He fought deceptively but clean, every small advantage chained to a big one waiting. I ate the kick, gave up ground, and Burning Arrowed the space he wanted to step into. He committed anyway and ate a scorch for his arrogance.

  The scorch didn't linger for long.

  A faint green pulse under the leather, instantly cleansing him of the DoT. A consumable? No, they are illegal, he wouldn't risk it. Probably an item bonus. Noted.

  He flicked the black dagger down, then… his outline thinned like the light forgot him.

  "Vanish!"

  "There it is!" Virtune said softly. "Not a runaway vanish. An attacking vanish. Watch for the re-entry, folks!"

  I didn't move. Moving would have given a direction. Instead I listened.

  I listened for a foot stepping onto sand or a dagger hissing - anything that would have given away his position.

  Something pricked the hairs on my neck.

  I Quick Stepped sideways on instinct and felt wind move where my spine had been half a second ago. The Backstab found air; he recovered by rolling over his shoulder and snapping a basic thrust into my calf. I let it scrape, traded space for a better angle, and planted a Piercing Shot in the line of his recovery step.

  It hit. He hissed and let the pain fold into movement, using it to spin a half-moon slash that made me abort the follow-through.

  We went up against each other hard, basics on basics. His shoulders moved like gimbals, mine like a door on a well-oiled hinge. He hit the bow with his forearms, tried to get inside my effective range but I used the riser like a cudgel, striking between two draws.

  Two arrows landed; three cuts came back my way. Numbers weren’t on my side in that exchange, but quality was: both my hits applied poison.

  "Come on!" someone from the Shadowreach group called. "Dance on him!"

  Kaelith obliged. Feint high, then real low, and a Boot Hook that tried to get my ankle. I hopped it and fired Burning Arrow at mid height; he leapt the line and landed already stabbing.

  We parted, both breathing harder.

  "Clock check," Virtune said, professional calm sanded smooth. "We are four minutes in with no decisive momentum. Kaelith has scored more instances, but Orion's attacks had higher impact. If the ranger forces longer exchanges, this turns his way. If the rogue keeps the skirmishes small and frequent, attrition favors the Whisper of Shadowreach."

  I didn’t wait for his next move. I set the lane myself: feinted a draw, watched his shoulders load for the dodge, and sent a basic shot to pull his parry. As his wrists crossed, I actually drew and sent the real threat, Piercing Shot, to the micro-seam that formed at the base of his thumb. He turned the white dagger to catch, but it was too late.

  The arrow punched through the gap and tore the skin between his thumb and forefinger. He didn’t cry out. He just switched grips, reverse on black, orthodox on white, and came at me.

  His Backstab attempt this time used the reverse grip as misdirection: the white dagger flashed high, the black stabbed in shallow where I almost missed it. It scored, but not deep. I retaliated with a Fan of Arrows at almost point blank range, but even at this distance, he managed to dodge all eight of the shots.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Round two was coming.

  I rolled my shoulders, drew to half, then full. My hands shook only a little. No mistakes. Not one.

  I stepped forward. He disappeared.

  Vanish again, but something told me it was a more cautious one this time.

  I smiled.

  "Alright, Shadowreach," I whispered. "Let’s dance."

  He vanished left.

  The sand sighed as his feet displaced it; instinct pulled me half a stride backward, bow lifted. The moment he re-entered, the air cracked.

  "Backstab!"

  I caught the blur in my peripheral and twisted. Steel grazed ribs instead of spine and my HP dipped a chunk.

  I retaliated with a Piercing Shot, point blank, meant more to buy me some space than to deal damage. It clipped his shoulder and pinned a shred of cloak to the sand before the physics engine shrugged it off. He rolled, already back on his feet, daggers painting tight arcs of reflection in the sun.

  "He's chaining vanish entries into effective damage" Virtune narrated. "That's the sign of a rogue who's on a whole other level. Most of us on the sidelines would already be on respawn. But both of them are running out of mana soon, so they will need to keep track of that."

  Kaelith flicked his wrist; his black dagger dropped low, the white drew a crescent above it. The dual-color shimmer was almost hypnotizing, forcing my eye to track both.

  That was the trap. The real motion came from his boot: sand kicked high.

  I half-blinked through grit and heard the snap of leather as he lunged. A strike again, disguised in the dust.

  This time I didn’t back off.

  I stepped through it, twisting my torso to let his blade graze armor plates instead of flesh, bow limb catching his elbow. The impact jarred my arm but ruined his balance. I followed with an arrow to the thigh. The crowd howled.

  Close quarters fights with a bow has always been my specialty. Unorthodox, sure, but in Valhalla you couldn't always keep your distance. That was the reason why Ranger was usually regarded as a B tier class whenever Bow God Zephyr wasn't part of the discussion.

  But now it was.

  Kaelith hissed. For the first time, his breathing showed through his mask; short, controlled, visible.

  We circled.

  I fired basics now, rapid rhythm: thunk-thunk-thunk, never giving him the comfort of total invisibility. He deflected two of them, but the third bit into his forearm, applying poison that tickled away at his health. He quickly realized he needed some space.

  "Suffocating Smoke Bombs!"

  This was new, I have never seen a skill like this from a player. It was very similar to one of the Goblin leaders' smoke bomb skills, but it was even worse than that. The fog wrapped around my face, thick enough that the interface struggled to render visibility. I felt my HP tick down in tiny bites. Damage-over-time? I thought, analyzing the situation. Still, the blindness is what's more problematic.

  Somewhere inside, I heard footsteps. Three? Four?

  I drew by instinct, channeling Fan of Arrows, broad spread left to right. Sparks flared as shafts met metal. Then silence.

  "That's Kaelith signature field!" Virtune said, voice low, fascinated. "The smoke both harms and hides. If Orion can't reset the lane in ten seconds, the attrition will eat him alive."

  I Quick Stepped sideways. His dagger barely missed my cheek; I felt the breeze of it like a cold whisper. Time to give ground.

  I Leap Attacked backward, clearing about six meters, landed with the bow already half-drawn. A shot ripped through the fog’s tail and caught him mid-stride. The knockback made him skid, both daggers crossing to break the hit.

  I had around 40% of my HP and 25% of my mana left. I wasn't sure about his mana, but he was more comfortable with around 50% of his health still remaining. I knew I had to finish this fast, or I will be the one to be finished.

  I drew the bow to full, breath slow, shoulders locked. My world narrowed to the string, the arrowhead, and the my opponent.

  "Come on," I whispered. "Show me what else you've got."

  He obliged once again. He vanished forward, not sideways this time, straight line, impossible confidence, and when he came back into existence, both daggers were already cutting for the throat.

  Too close.

  I dodged backward, loosing an arrow mid-motion. He ducked under it, came inside my guard, slammed a shoulder into my chest and sent me stumbling back. Then he stabbed low, almost kneeling, twin daggers flashing upward in a scissoring motion.

  I twisted sideways, barely clear of danger. The black blade almost scraped my ribs.

  He looked up at me through the mask slit, eyes bright with something halfway between fury and admiration. Then he lifted his right hand, dark mana spiraling up the arm.

  "Oh no," Virtune said quietly. "He's casting again. That's new animation. We haven't seen this one before."

  The air around Kaelith fractured into shards of black glass. Five motes detached and began to orbit him like tiny moons. The crowd went dead silent.

  The five motes spun faster, the air around Kaelith folding inward like gravity had decided he was now the center of the universe.

  Then the motes lengthened: each into a dagger of pure darkness, edges flickering violet where light dared to touch them.

  "The Shadow's Blade Dance!"

  The crowd inhaled as one.

  Kaelith raised his real daggers to shoulder height and exhaled.

  The spectral blades followed.

  Then he moved.

  My world got narrowed down to seven blades.

  I dodged right, but one of the shadow daggers copied the movement; it clipped my thigh and carved a glowing gash across armor and skin. Pain flared and I was suddenly at 30% HP.

  He slashed low, high, low, every gesture multiplied six times over by the shadow daggers and his offhand.

  I blocked two with the bow, jumped one, still took three grazes. HP bar now blinking red, meaning I had less than 15% HP left.

  Now!, I thought.

  Nature’s Howl!

  The beach howled with me: a burst of green wind that tore through the salty air. The buff wrapped my arrows in spectral vines. I pivoted and fired three in a line, all hitting my opponent who got surprised I stopped dodging his relentless assault. The lifesteal kept me alive, and the three direct hits took a big chunk of his HP down. But he wasn't done. With a single Vanish! He disappeared from my line of sight.

  I lost visual for a full second. Then I braced for impact. He rematerialized under my draw, both real daggers flashing up. I blocked high; the shadow copies struck low and I couldn't dodge all of them. My HP dived to sub 10% territory.

  I tried to create space, but he was glued to me, relentless. His rhythm was gone now, replaced by pure fury: a storm of hits and feints, every motion a blur.

  I ducked one, parried another, fired Burning Arrow point-blank once again just to breathe. To my surprise, it was a direct hit.

  Nature's Howl had run out of time, and I was stabilized at around 6% of my HP while Kaelith still had about 20% remaining. I had mana for roughly two more skills, but at least his shadow blades had also disappeared soon after. It was a terrifying skill that could have probably mowed me down if my movement wasn't top notch, but it had a short duration.

  He jumped, flipped forward - showboating or desperate, I couldn’t tell - and threw both daggers mid-air. They whirled, one black, one white, twin arcs aiming straight for my head.

  I vaulted under the path, feeling the blades shear air over me, landed sliding on one knee.

  He caught the daggers on re-entry mid-flight and dove again.

  Enough.

  I planted the bow, channeling until the grip pulsed silver.

  "Silk Shot!"

  The string spat a thin filament of living web that shot past him and anchored on a rock.

  For a half-heartbeat, his eyes widened; real surprise, first I’d seen all match. The silk tightened and yanked me forward.

  I flew toward him, closing ten meters in less than a second.

  He tried to pivot, to parry the expected arrow. Too late.

  I let go of the string and pulled a full draw.

  "Fan of Arrows!"

  Point-blank.

  The volley tore through his guard: seven out of the eight arrows had hit, each blooming with poison. Kaelith hit the sand with the sound of someone finally remembering to breathe. The arena went utterly still.

  Then the ref's flag cut the silence.

  "Winner: Orion!"