Jularra, unlike Wona and Vischuno, could see perfectly who her real opponents were. With her eyes still closed, the moonlight of her magical dimension shone differently on her real opponents. All the cloned images were mostly transparent, while the true Wona and Vischuno appeared solid when lit by the transcendental moon.
Jularra walked towards Vischuno with amused confidence, occasionally entertaining an attack from one of the fake fighters so as not to let on that she was the real queen. She weaved her way through the chaos until she was within a few feet of the true Vischuno. He was fighting against a clone of himself, and two clones each of Wona and Jularra. Once Jularra saw an opening, she lashed out.
With a sprint of a few feet and a blazing sidestep, Jularra ran to the side of Vischuno’s gigantic shield and cut the leather straps holding it to the giant's third arm. Jularra didn’t stop, running around Vischuno, deflecting two of his attacks over her head. As she circled back around to his front, she kicked the shield to the ground and continued using her momentum for a step or two before spinning around with an attack. Her sword slid down one of Vischuno’s now-exposed sword arms, gouging and cutting his flesh as she followed through. Her blade found the crossguard of Vischuno’s sword and knocked it out of his hand as she made contact. Vicschuno followed quickly with an attack from his remaining sword, but before it found its target, a clone of the queen came down with a vicious slice, cutting off Vischuno’s arm at the elbow.
Without missing a beat, Jularra’s impulsive but trained subconscious took over. She immediately spun with an arching fan move and beheaded the cloned image of herself that had maimed Vischuno. The Bedrock champion fell onto his back, clutching at the bloody end of his partial arm with his remaining two hands. The Bedrock bristled with disapproval.
The fight had taken a far more serious turn than anyone had anticipated. But a lost limb was completely within the realm of possibility, and that was understood to be the case by the fight participants, as well as the onlooking Spire and Bedrock. They always trained in the sparring square with full force and intent to harm, and though lethal blows were almost always withheld, plenty of limbs had been lost.
But Jularra didn’t want to be the reason any limbs or lives were lost. The time had come for the fight to end. She stretched her arms out once more and summoned the sphere of energy between her hands. She pulled, causing the sphere to swell. As she did, each of her summoned clones stopped fighting and stood still. Wona an attack from a cloned Vischuno and raised her sword up to prepare for another, but held it steady as the sparring square fell quiet. Flashes of light from Jularra’s sphere caught Wona's attention. She weaved and swayed, trying to make out what was happening as Jularra crunched her hands towards each other, sending the entire mass of clones towards Wona.
Wona flew into a defensive panic. Those already near her resumed the fight. There was no advantage for Wona. She was completely surrounded, fighting only for survival. The number of incoming blades increased. She dodged one, then ducked and spun from another before jumping over the sweeping blade of a nearby attacker. She was outnumbered and at an increasing disadvantage. She had avoided any savage attacks until that point, but clearly knew it was just a matter of time before one landed. And while she wasn’t fearful of death or ashamed of loss, Jularra knew the woman wouldn’t want to lose—or die—in a practice match.
“I submit, I submit, I submit!” Wona screamed, making sure that she was heard. She followed up with one more repetition, even louder.
“I submit!”
Jularra pulled her hands back out, stretching the sphere and bringing the fighting to a halt once more. She threw the ball of energy into the air, where it dissipated, causing all the clones to crumble into piles of sand.
Only Wona, Vischuno and Jularra remained in the sparring area. Vischuno sat on the ground. His remaining two arms rested in his lap, limp and exhausted. Wona, still stumbling back from her last clash with a clone, fell backwards and onto her rear. She couldn’t breathe fast enough.
Jularra glanced at the stunned crowd. Their enthusiasm had crumbled. Spire and Bedrock searched the sparring square for a winner, but they were disappointed. Though Jularra had technically won, by way of Wona’s submission and Vischuno’s need for rescue, the onlookers’ thirst for glory would have to go unquenched.
Jularra sheathed her sword and turned to Korden, wanting to get the first inevitable visual exchange with him out of the way once the chaos ended. She knew what she’d see. Korden stood taut, arms folded. His lips were white with disapproval, teeth clenched behind them. His nostrils flared furiously.
The sound in Jularra’s ears suddenly twisted down to thin pokes of a whistle. Her head throbbed and her vision blurred. Her legs began to give out. She stumbled through a few rapid steps, appearing as if she were catching her feet. Then she blacked out.
***
She came to with Korden leaning over her.
“Hey." He wagged her head, holding her by the chin.
“I’m fine.” Her voice was still strong as she sat up.
“Hey, Vischuno!” she shouted from her seat on the ground. “Bring me your arm.”
The training yard was the quietest it had been since the match started. Korden gestured at another Bedrock for his waterskin, then swiped it out of his hand and shoved it in front of Jularra’s face.
Wincing only slightly, Vischuno go his legs underneath him and stood. Though he was bleeding profusely at the site of his third arm’s partial amputation, he quietly shuffled over to where its lower half had fallen. He picked it up and
