Icarus and Alessia stood opposite each other in the center of the abandoned stable. Almir planted himself between them, acting as mediator and judge of their duel.

  "Okay, so this is going to be a savate duel." His voice carried in the open space. "No weapons. First person to fold or get knocked out loses."

  Icarus tilted his head and spoke with a tone of faint disappointment. "It would have been more gracious of you to have accepted the weapons duel."

  Alessia cracked her knuckles. "Well, then I wouldn't have a chance to punch that stupid face of yours."

  Icarus sighed, saying nothing.

  Nearby, Heron and Irene sat perched on a section of a collapsed stone wall, watching the tension coil.

  Heron leaned close, keeping his voice low. "So, do you still think this is fine?"

  “I don’t exactly love that they’ve turned this into a street fight, but Alessia made her choice,” she whispered back, her eyes never leaving the scene. “Though, if I know him, he’ll take her down without leaving so much as a scratch.”

  Heron's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

  "Shh." Irene elbowed him gently. "Keep your voice down. But yeah. Just watch. Knowing him, it'll only take about two minutes."

  "Alright, take your stances," Almir commanded.

  Alessia dropped into a fighting stance with one foot forward and hands raised in a guard. Icarus simply stood, feet shoulder-width apart, arms loose at his sides.

  “Begin!”

  Icarus didn’t move, so Alessia took that as a sign to attack first. She lunged forward, leading with a sharp jab aimed at his head. He leaned back just enough for the glove to graze the air, but she was already pivoting. She immediately transitioned, chambering her leg for a high fouetté. The kick hissed through the air toward his temple

  Icarus sprang back, just out of reach, boots whispering over the grit.

  She closed the gap immediately, footwork tight, then threw another kick—this one driving in harder, aiming to crash through his guard.

  Icarus caught it on his forearm and palm, absorbing the force with a small shift of his stance.

  “You have some force in you, I’ll give you that,” Icarus said as he reigned in the force of her kick.

  Alessia pulled her leg back, breathing harder now. "Are you just going to defend, or are you going to do something?"

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  “Well, if you insist.” Icarus smiled.

  Alessia lunged again, a crochet this time, her fist arcing toward his jaw. But Icarus was already moving, not away, but into her. He slipped past the punch, his body twisting, one hand catching her extended arm while his leg slid behind hers. In a single, fluid motion, he used her own momentum against her, his leg acting as a pivot as he redirected her force.

  Alessia's eyes widened. Then the world spun as she was lifted and thrown, tumbling through the air before slamming into the dirt several yards away. Dust billowed around her.

  “I still think you need some combat training, so let's call it a day, and you can see with Richard to give you some lessons,” Icarus said.

  “You think one throw is going to make me quit? Don’t make me laugh, you blind trash!” Alessia growled.

  She scrambled to her feet, with rage tightening her jaw. She pivoted, launching a powerful lateral kick aimed at Icarus’s ribs, but he merely shifted his weight, allowing the strike to harmlessly pass his chest.

  She followed with a fouetté, leg whipping up in a tight arc for his head. Icarus ducked under it, turning with the motion so the air from her heel cut past his hair instead of his face. Alessia clicked her tongue and switched angles, snapping a low kick to disrupt his base, then trying to climb it into a higher line. Icarus read it early, catching her ankle on the low line and forcing it down, breaking her cadence before it could chain into anything more.

  "You're dead," she spat.

  She came at him again, faster this time, her fist arcing in a wide, swinging hook aimed at his temple. Icarus ducked under it, the punch slicing through empty air where his head had been. She transitioned immediately into a chassé croisé, her foot driving toward his knee in a brutal cross-kick meant to buckle his leg. He pivoted, the kick grazing past his thigh as he turned, and her momentum carried her forward a step too far.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  She launched again, this time with a straight punch, fast and clean, meant to spear his face. Icarus dropped low, sliding inside her reach, and his fingers struck two distinct pressure points: one at the crook of her elbow and another beneath her collarbone.

  Alessia’s arm went instantly limp, her entire side buckling as the nerves misfired.

  “That…” she gasped, staggering as her balance failed her. “That isn't… the rules of the duel.”

  “I agreed to a duel without weapons,” Icarus replied, his voice devoid of heat. “It was Almir who assumed it would be a traditional Savate match.”

  Alessia pushed forward anyway, stubborn as ever, but her balance was already compromised.

  Icarus stepped in and struck the back of her neck with a controlled chop.

  Alessia's eyes rolled back, and she crumpled to the ground, unconscious before she hit the dirt.

  Irene and Heron sprang down from the collapsed wall and hurried over. Irene knelt beside her immediately, pressing two fingers to her neck.

  "She has good skills," he said, genuinely acknowledging his opponent. "Too bad she was too easily provoked."

  "She's still breathing." Irene, after measuring the pulse.

  “Of course she is.” Icarus’s tone didn’t change. “It’s me, Irene. Did you think I’d hurt her more than I had to?”

  "No." Irene looked up at him with a faint smile. "But I had to check."

  "I'll carry her back to the hostel." Almir crouched, slipping one arm beneath Alessia's shoulders and the other under her knees. "You three can stay and continue the training."

  “Do you still have the strength, Icarus?” Heron asked, worry slipping through.

  “Oh, I’ll be fine,” Icarus replied. “Just a bit of water to refresh myself, and then we’re ready for your training.”