The arena fell silent, the tension thick as the crowd stared at the two warriors, unsure of the outcome. Dax, lying on the ground in his civilian clothes, groaned softly but began to stir. He slowly pushed himself up, brushing off the dust and dirt from his torn clothing. The crowd, visibly relieved to see him move, erupted in cheers once again as Dax stood up, though battered and bruised, still standing.
Black, standing just a few meters away, was breathing hard, his body visibly worn. His morphed suit had vanished, leaving him in his civilian clothes as well. He swayed slightly, the weight of the fight still pressing down on him, but he held his ground.
Dax walked over, a slight limp in his step but his face calm, even if a bit amused. The cheers of the crowd echoed around them, but Dax seemed focused entirely on Black.
"Well, Ranger," Dax said, his voice carrying above the roar of the crowd, "it looks like we both hit our limits." He extended his hand, and Black grasped it, allowing Dax to pull him fully upright.
"Doesn't feel like a win, though, does it?" Black asked, his voice hoarse from the exhaustion.
Dax chuckled, shaking his head. "That's because it wasn't." He paused, giving Black a moment to catch his breath. "According to Mirinoi rules," Dax continued, speaking loud enough for both Black and the crowd to hear, "this was a tie. Victory requires that one combatant remains standing—morphed or transformed—until the other either surrenders or is no longer able to fight. But..." he gestured between the two of them, "we both lost our transformations. That makes it a draw."
Black frowned, glancing down at his own un-morphed body. His exhaustion made it clear that neither of them could have gone any further. "A tie, huh?" he muttered, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and respect.
Dax grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. "We fought like hell, but rules are rules." He stepped forward, placing a hand on Black's shoulder. "But you should be proud of yourself, Ranger."
Black glanced at Dax, brow furrowed.
"That kind of fight—the way you fought? That's the way you need to fight when it counts. When the real enemy comes, you're going to need every bit of that grit." Dax's tone was serious now, the weight of his words sinking in. "You didn't back down. You didn't quit. That's what matters."
The crowd roared in approval, their relief visible as the two warriors stood side by side, battered but with a newfound respect for each other. Dax raised Black's hand, declaring him an equal in the eyes of the audience.
"Fight like this when the real battle comes," Dax added quietly as the crowd cheered, "and you'll make it out alive."
Black nodded, his breathing still heavy, but the respect in his eyes was clear. "I'll keep that in mind, Rider." There was no bravado in his voice now, just a quiet understanding of what lay ahead.
Dax grinned again, stepping back to address the crowd. "Looks like I couldn't finish the Ranger off!" he called out, the audience cheering even louder in response. "But next time, I'll be sure to bring him down!"
Black laughed, shaking his head. "I'll be ready."
As the cheers reached a crescendo, Dax gave Black one last pat on the shoulder before turning toward the exit. "You've earned my respect, Ranger," he said over his shoulder, his voice carrying above the noise. "But next time, I'll make sure it's not a tie."
Black watched as Dax walked away, feeling the weight of the duel and the message it carried. The arena lights dimmed slightly as the crowd began to filter out, but the battle would stay with him long after the cheers had faded. This had been more than just a fight—it had been a lesson, and he'd carry it with him into the real war ahead.