Chapter 152: "Two Birds With One Stone"

The three of them made no immediate move.

They stood perfectly still, shoulders relaxed and machetes lowered at their sides.

In a three-way fight, the first two contestants to engage usually put themselves at a disadvantage. If two fighters locked blades, the third could easily slip in from behind and slash them both, potentially securing an instant victory.

Of course, none of the three figures standing inside the ring were novices.

They understood that danger perfectly.

So instead of rushing forward, they remained motionless in their starting positions, forming a rough triangle across the center of the wide arena.

Each watched the other two with unwavering attention, waiting for the smallest mistake.

Of the two Marchetti brothers standing opposite her, Aren’s attention naturally settled more heavily on Nazario.

Her eyes tracked the subtle shifts in his stance and the way his weight rested over his feet.

’Nazario relies heavily on his left foot when making turns.’

’If Jordan and I attack at the same time, Jordan will probably strike downward from above.’

’If I pretend to attack from Nazario’s right side, Nazario will almost certainly pivot left to evade us both.’

’That’s when I’ll strike.’

Across from her, Nazario was conducting his own assessment.

’Well, let’s see... what do we have here?’

His gaze traveled to Jordan first.

’A love fool...’

Then it shifted to Aren.

’...and a useless doll.’

His eyes narrowed as they settled on her, contempt plain on his face.

’These two are probably so close that they’ll try to corner me together.’

’But what can this girl really do?’

’I already saw how terrible she was in the first round.’

’If Jordan hadn’t somehow escaped and come back to help her, she probably would’ve died somewhere inside that maze.’

The last thought amused him enough to draw a crooked smirk across his face.

"So?" Nazario called, deliberately provoking them. "Are we going to stand here all day staring at each other?"

Jordan understood the provocation immediately. They weren’t close, but he knew Nazario’s personality far too well to mistake that tone for anything innocent.

"Not a bad idea, isn’t it?" Jordan shot back. "But aren’t you the one who’s so eager to win? Why aren’t you making the first move?"

Nazario barked out a short laugh.

Instead of answering Jordan, he turned toward Aren and gestured casually with one hand.

"I was thinking of letting the lady go first."

Aren blinked and pointed at herself.

"...Ah. Me?"

Then a bright smile spread across her face, and she lowered her head in genuine gratitude.

"Ah, that’s very thoughtful of you," she said sincerely. "If that’s the case, I’d gladly accept the invitation."

Nazario’s brow rose.

"...What?"

For the briefest moment, he simply stared at her.

’What the hell?’

He had expected a mocking jab. Sarcasm. Perhaps some attempt to provoke him in return.

He certainly hadn’t expected gratitude.

’Is she actually this stupid?’

Yet, as he stood there trying to process the sheer absurdity of her response, something changed.

Every trace of cheerfulness vanished from Aren’s face. The warmth disappeared from her eyes. Even the faint softness in her posture seemed to drain away.

Everything happened so quickly that the transition barely seemed real.

What remained was cold, razor-sharp focus — the expression of someone who had performed the same movement thousands of times until it had become instinct.

Then—

She lunged.

Nazario stalled for the briefest fraction of a second.

’...What did I just see?’

He barely had time to register the transformation before movement came from the opposite side as well.

Whoosh!

Jordan had already launched himself directly at him at alarming speed.

A collective gasp swept through the warehouse before the entire building seemed to erupt as two figures closed the distance on Nazario simultaneously.

Jordan surged forward first, his longer stride carrying him rapidly across the center of the ring, while Aren followed just behind, approaching from Nazario’s right.

Nazario recovered instantly.

He had expected exactly this.

’So predictable.’

A confident smirk pulled at his mouth as he shifted his weight backward and raised his machete.

’The Lombardi girl might be fast, but she’s short.’

’From that angle, the best she can do is a low slash from my right.’

’Jordan will definitely come down from above.’

’I’ll parry Jordan first, then redirect his blade and use the same motion to block her attack.’

’Two birds with one stone.’

With the plan firmly established in his mind, Nazario drove his weight onto his back leg and raised the spine of his machete—

—just as Jordan brought his weapon crashing down from above with full force.

CLANG!

The impact shuddered violently through Nazario’s arm. His fingers went momentarily numb around the grip as the force of the collision vibrated through his bones and rang across the warehouse.

Jordan was strong.

Very strong.

But Nazario held his ground.

Immediately, he rotated his torso and twisted his blade, intending to drive Jordan’s weapon aside in a wide arc toward the right and intercept Aren’s incoming strike at the same time.

The movement should have caught her blade.

Except—

There was no second machete.

Nazario’s eyes widened.

’What the...?’

His right side was empty.

Aren was gone.

She had abandoned that position without him realizing it.

’Fuck.’

’Where is that woman?!’

Instinct took over.

Nazario whipped his head to the left.

And there she was—

Already inside his guard.

Aren had slipped around him with a speed so clean and economical that his eyes had failed to track the transition.

Her machete swept low in a clean horizontal arc — aimed directly at the exposed left side of his body.

Slash.

For one suspended instant, the entire warehouse seemed to stop breathing.

A thin red line appeared across Nazario’s white shirt before the fabric darkened around the wound.

Blood seeped through the torn cloth, spreading across the pristine white fabric before dripping onto the canvas beneath him in scattered crimson drops.

Up in the gallery, Eduardo froze in his seat.

Giovanni beside him looked equally stunned.

Neither man had expected Nazario to be cut so quickly. They had assumed the younger Marchetti would hold his own for far longer before suffering even the slightest injury.

Yet he had been the first to bleed.

And the person who had wounded him was none other than the woman who, only half an hour earlier, had been lying pale and shivering on a stretcher, looking as though she belonged in a sickbed for the next week.

They had also seen exactly what she had done.

The horizontal cut had been decisive yet precise. There was no wasted motion, no unnecessary flourish — only the clean efficiency of someone who understood exactly how much force was required and where to place it.

Down in the ring, Nazario finally recovered from the shock of feeling his flesh split.

’Tsk...’

’...What on earth just happened?!’

He immediately slammed his machete against Jordan’s weapon, knocking it away with another heavy—

CLANG!

The impact forced Jordan backward before Nazario himself staggered several steps away, his free hand clamping over the cut on his left side.

The wound wasn’t deep. It was little more than a shallow laceration — enough to bleed, enough to hurt, and more than enough to serve as a warning.

Jordan, of course, had seen everything.

A slow smirk curled across his face as he took several steps backward from the clash, creating distance between himself and Nazario.

’I knew it.’

’She can pretend to be clumsy all she wants in the gym...’

’But she could never hide how good she really is forever.’

He turned toward Aren then, a playful smile replacing the hard edge that had occupied his expression moments earlier.

"You know what, Ariana?" he said, his eyes gleaming. "I just came up with an idea."

Aren looked over immediately.

"What idea?"

Jordan raised his machete and pointed its tip directly at his younger brother — who still had one hand pressed against his bleeding side and his face twisted into a deep, furious grimace.

Jordan’s smile widened.

"How about you and I turn this three-way fight into a duel between just the two of us?"