THIRD PERSON'S POV
.
.
.
.
.
Two minutes passed.
No one made a move.
"Alright," Fiona said calmly. "I'm going in. Lily, cover me."
Fiona moved.
One blink—and she was already across the field.
Not teleportation.
Speed.
Smooth. Silent. Precise.
Like a snake striking before its prey even realized it was being hunted.
She took down two opponents almost instantly. Every attempt to counter her was cut short—roots bursting from the ground at Lily's command, binding, restraining, assisting when needed.
Next was supposed to be Albert and Ivy.
But Ivy didn't move.
She stood perfectly still, eyes fixed on the opposing team, her expression unreadable.
Albert didn't rush her—but the others were starting to notice.
"I told you she'd pull us down," Zoe muttered, already moving.
Nathan spared Ivy a glance before following Zoe, positioning himself as defense.
George hesitated, glancing between the fight and Ivy.
"Ivy… are you okay?" he asked quietly. "If you're not feeling well, don't force yourself."
Ivy finally looked away from the opposing group.
"Must we knock them out?"
"Yes," George replied. "Unless you can make them surrender. No killing. That's not an option."
She nodded once and turned back.
This time, the opposing leader was watching her too—eyebrow raised.
"Tell the others to fall back," Ivy said calmly.
"Defense when needed. Four of us should attack."
George and Donald exchanged a look.
Albert nodded are them.
George raised his fist.
Zoe and Lily reacted immediately—webs shot out, roots burst from the ground, restraining their opponents before they pulled back.
They regrouped quickly.
"What is it, boss?" Zoe asked.
"Change of plan," George said. "You four defend. We attack."
Zoe frowned. "What's wrong with our usual plan?"
"Nothing," George replied. "We're just trying something new. No time for questions—get in posi—"
He stopped.
Albert had already moved.
He grabbed Ivy and hurled her across the field.
She slammed into an opponent, driving him straight into the wall. Dust exploded as his body slid down, unmoving.
Albert didn't pause.
He stepped in—sharp, precise—like something that had already calculated the outcome.
One kick.
Another opponent flew, crashing beside the first.
Unconscious.
The stadium fell silent.
"Hah!" Donald laughed, stepping forward, shoulders loose—something feral flickering in his eyes. "That's what I'm talking about. No bullshit."
He charged in.
The crowd erupted.
"Still think we need defense?" Nathan asked, almost amused, watching them dismantle the opposition with controlled efficiency.
George shrugged and joined—movement fluid, dangerous.
Not reckless.
Predatory.
Lily bounced in place, screaming.
"EIIIIII! Fiona, did you see that?! Did you see that?! One punch! EIIIIII!"
She shook Fiona violently.
Fiona just stared at the chaos, her expression somewhere between disbelief and resignation.
Four minutes later, only three opponents remained.
The leader—and his two sides.
The leader's eyes locked onto Ivy.
Slowly, he began to clap.
"Well, well," he said softly. "You've changed, my love. But I always knew this side of you existed. Such a shame you kept it hidden."
He stepped forward, stopping in front of her.
George and Donald moved instinctively to her sides.
Donald, already assuming the worst, dropped into a fighting stance.
The boy glanced at him and clicked his tongue.
"New puppets?" he scoffed, leaning closer to Ivy. "You got some fame in Country A and suddenly think you belong here? Don't make me laugh, honey."
His voice dropped.
"You'll always be beneath me. Like it or not."
He never got the chance to step back.
Ivy drove her knee up sharply.
He folded.
Her fist connected with his face, and she grabbed his hair.
"You talk too much," she said flatly and kicked him aside.
He rolled—
Straight to Albert.
Who kicked him right back.
George and the others watched, stunned, as the two passed him between them like a ball.
Donald finally caught him mid-air and, with surprising care, placed him on the ground.
Unconscious.
Victory declared.