Cintra assessed the problem plainly.

She was standing on broken stone with new lines attached to the edges around her—lines she couldn’t see but could feel when she shifted her weight across the irregular surfaces, the slight resistance at certain edge contacts that told her where Sevon’s overnight work had landed. Her footing was managed rather than stable. Her pulse range was limited by the energy loss across the broken section between her position and Sevon’s intact grid. And now the intact grid’s interior was layered beyond what her range-pulses could reach.

She had three options.

She could keep sending pulses at the boundary—clearing the outermost lines repeatedly, preventing Sevon from consolidating the boundary, keeping the edge open even if she couldn’t reach the interior. It would cost her pulse energy and it would maintain a standoff rather than resolving it.

She could advance—cross the broken section toward the boundary, get closer, reduce the distance her pulses had to travel across damaged stone so they arrived with enough energy to push through the boundary lines and reach the interior layering.

Or she could break more floor.

The third option was the most expensive and the most complete—another maximum pulse, breaking the stone beneath her again, creating new irregular terrain between her position and the boundary, potentially disrupting the boundary lines in the process.

But she had already paid for the broken section she was standing on.

Breaking more floor meant breaking it in front of her—between her position and the boundary—and moving forward through the newly broken terrain. Which meant fighting across two sections of broken stone instead of one.

She chose the second option.

Advance.

She began moving forward—slowly, each step a managed negotiation with the irregular surface beneath her, her eyes reading the stone the way she had been reading it since the fight began. The broken section was navigable if you paid attention to it. Gaps she could step around. Lower sections she could redistribute her weight across. The lines Sevon had attached to the edges were triggerable but she knew roughly where they were from the resistance she had felt—she could work around the ones at the worst positions.

She moved.

Sevon watched her advance.

He read the movement for what it was—an approach, the decision to close distance rather than fight from range—and responded by reinforcing the boundary again. Fresh lines at the edge, laid in the seconds Cintra was spending crossing the broken section, the boundary consolidating as she came toward it.

She sent a pulse mid-advance—not stopping to deliver it, sending it while moving, the pulse traveling ahead of her approach and triggering the fresh boundary lines before they could finish consolidating.

Sevon laid more immediately.

She sent another pulse.

He laid more.

The exchange ran across the broken section as she moved—Cintra clearing the boundary lines with rolling pulses, Sevon relaying them faster than the pulses could clear them completely, the boundary in constant partial consolidation rather than the full consolidated state he wanted but never fully achieving it because she kept disrupting it before it finished.

She was eight feet from the boundary.

Six.

The crowd was fully standing—the Virex sections loud with the noise of people watching their fighter hold his position under advance, the Solmara sections equally loud with the noise of people watching their fighter close distance across terrain that was working against her with every step.

Four feet.

Cintra sent a full pulse—not rolling, not partial. A complete directed pulse at full single-foot output aimed directly at the boundary, the most energy she had put into a single directed pulse since the fight began. It traveled the four feet of broken stone at full force and hit the boundary lines before Sevon could relay them and the lines triggered and discharged and for a single second the boundary was open—the outermost layer gone, the interior of the intact grid exposed, the deep layering visible to a pulse that arrived with enough energy left to reach it.

She sent the second pulse immediately.

Through the open boundary. Into the interior.

It hit the deep layering.

Triggered lines throughout the intact section—not all of them, not the full density Sevon had built, but a significant portion of the interior configuration discharging simultaneously into the stone rather than into a fighter’s limb. The careful layering Sevon had spent the morning building—partially cleared in a single second

Cintra assessed the problem plainly.

She was standing on broken stone with new lines attached to the edges around her—lines she couldn’t see but could feel when she shifted her weight across the irregular surfaces, the slight resistance at certain edge contacts that told her where Sevon’s overnight work had landed. Her footing was managed rather than stable. Her pulse range was limited by the energy loss across the broken section between her position and Sevon’s intact grid. And now the intact grid’s interior was layered beyond what her range-pulses could reach.

She had three options.

She could keep sending pulses at the boundary—clearing the outermost lines repeatedly, preventing Sevon from consolidating the boundary, keeping the edge open even if she couldn’t reach the interior. It would cost her pulse energy and it would maintain a standoff rather than resolving it.

She could advance—cross the broken section toward the boundary, get closer, reduce the distance her pulses had to travel across damaged stone so they arrived with enough energy to push through the boundary lines and reach the interior layering.

Or she could break more floor.

The third option was the most expensive and the most complete—another maximum pulse, breaking the stone beneath her again, creating new irregular terrain between her position and the boundary, potentially disrupting the boundary lines in the process.

But she had already paid for the broken section she was standing on.

Breaking more floor meant breaking it in front of her—between her position and the boundary—and moving forward through the newly broken terrain. Which meant fighting across two sections of broken stone instead of one.

She chose the second option.

Advance.

She began moving forward—slowly, each step a managed negotiation with the irregular surface beneath her, her eyes reading the stone the way she had been reading it since the fight began. The broken section was navigable if you paid attention to it. Gaps she could step around. Lower sections she could redistribute her weight across. The lines Sevon had attached to the edges were triggerable but she knew roughly where they were from the resistance she had felt—she could work around the ones at the worst positions.

She moved.

Sevon watched her advance.

He read the movement for what it was—an approach, the decision to close distance rather than fight from range—and responded by reinforcing the boundary again. Fresh lines at the edge, laid in the seconds Cintra was spending crossing the broken section, the boundary consolidating as she came toward it.

She sent a pulse mid-advance—not stopping to deliver it, sending it while moving, the pulse traveling ahead of her approach and triggering the fresh boundary lines before they could finish consolidating.

Sevon laid more immediately.

She sent another pulse.

He laid more.

The exchange ran across the broken section as she moved—Cintra clearing the boundary lines with rolling pulses, Sevon relaying them faster than the pulses could clear them completely, the boundary in constant partial consolidation rather than the full consolidated state he wanted but never fully achieving it because she kept disrupting it before it finished.

She was eight feet from the boundary.

Six.

The crowd was fully standing—the Virex sections loud with the noise of people watching their fighter hold his position under advance, the Solmara sections equally loud with the noise of people watching their fighter close distance across terrain that was working against her with every step.

Four feet.

Cintra sent a full pulse—not rolling, not partial. A complete directed pulse at full single-foot output aimed directly at the boundary, the most energy she had put into a single directed pulse since the fight began. It traveled the four feet of broken stone at full force and hit the boundary lines before Sevon could relay them and the lines triggered and discharged and for a single second the boundary was open—the outermost layer gone, the interior of the intact grid exposed, the deep layering visible to a pulse that arrived with enough energy left to reach it.

She sent the second pulse immediately.

Through the open boundary. Into the interior.

It hit the deep layering.

Triggered lines throughout the intact section—not all of them, not the full density Sevon had built, but a significant portion of the interior configuration discharging simultaneously into the stone rather than into a fighter’s limb. The careful layering Sevon had spent the morning building—partially cleared in a single second