The technique of attacking from a distance has become ineffective for me; it’s turned into a total waste of mana and resources. I can pierce the plates if I land a direct hit, but the problem is that I deal no damage—my construct never reaches his body. The gorilla only needs to inject mana to restore his plates to normal, and we’re stuck at a deadlock.

  We both know this can’t end in a long-range fight. We both know there’s only one way to kill the other—and that’s to face each other head-on. I can see it in his eyes. The gorilla is ready. He’s waiting for me.

  The steel plates transform—two of them turn into metallic swords very similar to mine, one plate splits in half to cover his tail and form sharp tips, and the last one spreads around his body, protecting the most critical parts.

  I reinforce all my spells as well. Without the need to focus on creating more swords, I can pour all my attention into controlling more mana and Imra than usual. My body swells; when I feel a slight instability, I stop—I was a hair away from exploding. The mana turned volatile.

  I find a point where my body is screaming and recovering at the same time. A deafening roar comes from the massive monster, and I don’t stay behind. I roar back. “Come, let’s dance.” Two beings crash their swords in the middle of the field, the ground cracking beneath their feet as a metallic echo spreads through the surroundings.

  The first cut near his armpit appears five seconds in. The second strikes his thigh almost ten seconds later, the third near his ribs. I take a cut on my forearm when my third strike connects.

  The monster in front of me swings his swords with remarkable precision. I’m stunned by the level of his swordsmanship—his movements are correct, his leg positioning is almost always precise, the synchronization of his body is admirable. He knows exactly when to use his right arm or his left.

  Several small cuts appear on his body, thin lines of blood tracing across his golden fur. I’m taking continuous damage as well—it’s extremely difficult to keep up with the speed of four limbs. The gorilla moves his massive tail as if it were another pair of arms.

  Is this damn ape copying me? His movements are very similar to mine—I took a while to realize it. What an insane ability to adapt. Being able to acquire part of my movements just by watching me fight for a little over ten minutes is madness.

  He truly is an anomaly. Evolving so quickly is astonishing. Unfortunately for him, he’s standing before his worst enemy. He may have adopted part of my movements, but he’s still far from being able to keep up with me.

  Another mistake in imitating me is that I can read his movements better now. I can guide him into certain patterns and gain a clear advantage. I block his tail with my left sword, duck to evade his arm, and at the same time my other blade goes straight for his heart—his other tail stops my attack.

  I had already anticipated that defense. I step in closer to avoid being caught by his other arm, and my first sword is already on its way to his abdomen, carving a massive gash from his belly up to his ribs. A huge amount of blood sprays out—my clothes are now soaked with his blood and mine.

  Some of his wounds begin to disappear, especially the older, smaller ones—closing or being healed by time magic. I’ve just noticed another flaw in his new fighting style: he can’t heal quickly. He has a good affinity for time magic, but almost no control over it in the middle of battle.

  He’s only beginning to learn how to handle it. Meanwhile, I can heal instantly without stopping my movements—years of practice are making a small difference again. His wounds are healing very slowly. I’m intact, just like when I started.

  I don’t let him get used to my rhythm—I change it slightly every few moves. I’m aggressive, calm, defensive, furious. These small shifts are crippling his enormous adaptability.

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  I manage to break through part of the defenses on his face. I’ve struck the same side four times to crack that hardened steel cover. A cut appears on the gorilla’s face—my chest receives a massive gash from a slight mistake. His tails are growing sharper with every strike. I have to be careful if I don’t want to be decapitated.

  A powerful blow from the ape’s sword breaks my guard and sends my arm flying upward. One of his tails aims for my face—I shift just enough to take a cut from my lip to my ear. The other tail comes toward my forehead. I was already expecting this move. With the help of gravity, I shift my body into a perfect position, and a wide smile forms on my lips.

  My sword rises with all the force I can muster and the push of gravity. I connect with his second tail and for a millisecond doubt I can cut it—but my fear proves unfounded. My blade cleanly severs half of his tail.

  I fall on my back. The gorilla roars in pain and tries to crush my chest with his massive foot. I teleport to a safe distance. I can’t let my guard down—I have to keep attacking. The monster is trying to heal his severed tail. I can’t allow that.

  I intensify the pressure on the massive gorilla. If I slip up for even a moment, he’ll recover his wounds with a bit of mana—I can’t let him. My accelerated, murderous movements force him onto the defensive, giving him no time to infuse time mana into his body.

  I teleport again, making him think I’m going for his other tail. The gorilla panics and moves it—his read was wrong. My sword changes direction in a rising arc, carving a massive gash across his entire back. I teleport again, aiming for his face. I see him hesitate; his steel coating only reaches halfway, and my strike is powerful enough to pierce it and take one of his eyes.

  The enraged gorilla swings his right hand diagonally. I try to intercept with my sword when, in the instant before impact, something unexpected happens. The monster releases his sword and clenches his hand into a fist. I have no time to dodge or teleport—I can only raise my other arm in defense. The punch crashes into my chest, sending me flying.

  I feel my arm shatter, most of my rib bones break, and several organs rupture. The damage is less severe than I expected—I thought I’d die from a single blow like that. I give him no time to recover. I get up and charge straight at the monster.

  My body begins to recover slightly as I move—only the most vital internal parts return to normal at that moment. Most of my bones are still broken, my arm a complete mess. I grit my teeth through the pain. If I give him a breather, he’ll recover and all my effort will go down the drain.

  I hear the monster growl—he’s furious at being unable to recover. I force him to defend against my one good arm and my Joyeuse constructs. I’m playing with fire—one bad construct and we’ll both take a mana explosion to the face.

  Seconds pass. My body is almost fully healed, but it’s taking far longer than usual. My cube is screaming in pain, my head is buzzing from the strain, and I’m overexerting myself to the point that even my healing is slow and imperfect.

  My arm heals completely. I can use Thundersnow again, but in exchange I’m covered in cuts. I didn’t come out unscathed.

  The gorilla has lost a lot of blood. I can see the dizziness in his eyes. I wait for the right moment—then I see him make a mistake. His foot slips, throwing off his balance and disrupting the swing of his sword. My blade shows no mercy. I dodge his tail to step into the perfect range and sever his arm in a single cut.

  I sacrifice my left arm to land a strike on his cube. I see his body convulse in the next second. He regains his stance before the next blow—his tail blocks my only sword and his other arm tries to stab me. I force my body to dodge the follow-up strike.

  I seize the next spasm to go for his head. Relief floods me when my blade connects. I feel it cutting through his neck inch by inch.

  Why do I feel so slow? What is this strange sensation? My movements stop. My sword freezes halfway—I’ve only cut through half his neck.

  Time magic? Did he manage to paralyze me? The gorilla doesn’t seem aware of what he’s done. Confusion fills his eyes. His sword moves toward my neck—at that moment, I feel fear. We might die together.

  I force my cube, use every fiber of my being. I even feel blood running from my eyes and nose from the strain. I break free slightly from the effect. Gravity drags his arm into a lower arc—now it’s aimed at my heart and cube. I’m still in critical condition.

  Blood begins to flow from my ears due to the effort. Just when I feel I’m about to die, I see his body twitch and his strength drop just enough for my gravity to affect him.

  Time returns to normal. My sword completes its perfect arc, severing the gorilla’s head from his body—at the same moment, his blade pierces me about five centimeters below my heart, cutting downward and exiting near my ribs on the other side.

  I feel the life of the monster less than a meter from me fade away. His final spasms last only a few seconds before his lifeless body collapses to the ground.

  My consciousness fades with it. All the fatigue and strain crash together with my countless wounds—and now I’ve lost almost seventy percent of my body. My eyes grow heavy. When my head finally hits the ground, the light goes out completely.