Darius let out a disbelieving chuckle as he heard the cheers from the human crowd, placing a hand on Lyra's shoulder.
"There you go—even they know you've got a shot," he said with a grin.
Lyra, though, couldn't find the right words. Should she thank them? Raise her fist like Quentin had before the fight started?
Darius, catching her uncertain look, gave her the answer right away.
"Go out there and win. A solid knockout'll be thanks enough for their support."
Lyra nodded, locking eyes with Darius, her expression serious.
She didn't fully understand why she felt the urge to repay the cheers, not when those same people had been mocking her just minutes ago.
But she couldn't escape the fire igniting in her chest, her blood burning for more.
She glanced at her foot, still splattered with Quentin's blood, and couldn't help but let a smile creep across her face.
'I really have a chance,' she thought, standing as the referee signaled and staring down the panther across from her.
Quentin, on the other hand, had lost all his confidence.
'A fox knocked me to the mat…? Just by learning a couple of tricks?' he wondered, scowling as he wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his glove.
'I'm going to kill her. I'm definitely going to kill her.'
His rage grew hotter, the humiliation of being floored by a lesser species, even just once, eating at him.
It wouldn't happen again—he wouldn't allow it. He had to win, to preserve his honor… or he'd never be able to set foot in this place again without shame.
DING
The bell rang again, signaling the start of the second round.
Quentin, despite the fury consuming him, had realized that charging in blindly wouldn't work against Lyra.
This feral, using human tricks, had managed to close the gap between them.
But it didn't matter… it was only a matter of time. Panthers were far tougher than foxes, after all.
As long as the fight stayed relatively even, Quentin would always come out on top in the end, no matter how humiliating the process.
Quentin circled the octagon, never taking his eyes off Lyra, who mirrored him with her guard up high.
The contrast with Quentin, his arms swinging loosely without a care for defense, was stark.
He was ready for a brutal, all-out brawl where only one thing mattered: how much damage you could take and how much you could dish out.
'This is how a feral fight should be,' Quentin thought, recalling his past battles. 'Why degrade yourself like that, damn it?'
Unable to hold back his emotions, the panther feral lunged, catching Lyra off guard.
Instead of aiming a punch at her face and risking one of her strange strikes, he went as low to the ground as he could.
Lyra's sharp reflexes let her see it coming, and she tried to jump out of the way, but Quentin grabbed her legs and slammed her to the mat with all his strength.
Lyra's face bounced off the canvas, her nose dislocating with a gush of blood.
Still gripping her heels, Quentin used his superior strength to hoist her up again, hurling her toward the cage's bars.
Lyra managed to cover herself this time, but the impact of the metal against her arms left small, stinging cuts.
She staggered to her feet, only to find Quentin watching her from a distance.
Her vision was blurry, but she could still fight, no matter how much every movement hurt.
But as Lyra recovered, she noticed something odd about her opponent: he'd passed up the chance to keep attacking.
Was he toying with her? Was it a matter of pride? Lyra wondered, her brow furrowing.
She caught her breath, tasting the blood dripping from her nose. Her tail swished side to side, eager.
It wasn't the first time she'd taken a beating, but it was the first time running wasn't an option, and that made her heart race a mile a minute.
As she tried to gather her thoughts, Quentin charged again, attempting the same move.
This time, Lyra wasn't fooled. She pushed off the cage's bars, leaping high to dodge the attack.
Without giving him a chance to react, Quentin spun around, trying again.
Sick of being underestimated, Lyra decided to meet him head-on. She hadn't been trained for this exact situation, but it didn't matter.
In moments like these, Darius had told her to "just fight like you always have and trust your instincts."
Lyra crouched, lunging in the same direction as Quentin, but just before they collided, she used her greater agility to sidestep him with a quick spin.
Almost without thinking, Lyra whipped around as fast as she could, throwing the spinning heel kick Darius had taught her, aiming down from above Quentin.
The awkward angle caused the kick to miss by a hair, grazing Quentin's shoulder. He stumbled back, clutching it with a pained grimace.
"Damn it… Hey, ref!" Quentin shouted, glaring at the bear feral. "What the hell is this? That's gotta be illegal!"
But the bear feral just shook his head, signaling that it was all legal.
Quentin kept complaining, storming toward the referee in a fury.
Lyra paused, waiting for a response to her opponent's protests, but a shout from the stands snapped her back to reality.
"The round's not over! Don't stop!"
It was Kai's voice.
Lyra snapped her guard up as fast as she could, charging at a distracted Quentin.
By the time the panther realized what was happening, it was too late. Lyra landed a clean elbow strike to his jaw.
One of his teeth flew out, blood gushing as Lyra mounted him on the ground, hammering his face while screaming.
Quentin growled in pain, trying to grab Lyra's hands to stop the onslaught, but it was no use.
Adrenaline had completely taken over, her feral aggression consuming her, but this time it felt different.
She wasn't transforming—her mind was fully in control of her movements, every strike executed just as she'd been taught.
Everyone, including the referee, froze in shock at the sight of a small fox feral dishing out such a beating to a black panther.
And because of that, no one noticed that Quentin, on the verge of losing consciousness, gave in to desperation.
His fur began to spread across his skin, his jaw slowly morphing into a snout as his fangs and claws grew.
Lyra was too focused on her own strikes to notice what was happening to Quentin until it was too late.
The panther, completely losing control, sank his claws into her stomach, stopping her dead in her tracks with excruciating pain.
Lyra let out a desperate scream, staring in terror as the enraged panther brought his fangs closer to her neck.