That wasn’t how momentum worked. Any bystander could tell at least that much.

It was like out of nowhere, the woman’s arm just slipped past and lifted Jorfr up by the chin with the force of ten men.

Out of the entire audience, only a tiny minority actually saw what happened - to all the others, the movement was so sudden, so swift, so utterly lacking in windup that it looked like Zelsys somehow willed her arm to bypass Jorfr’s guard and conjured the vast force to send him flying, leaving behind only the stench of ozone and tendrils of white lightning jumping between her fingers, the musculature of her forearm writhing under her skin as though a hive of serpents.

The gambling parlor fell silent as Jorfr’s form slid down the barrier, the sound of leather squeaking against skin and the snapping of electric arcs the only thing to break the silence. Zelsys spun around in place flexing and boasting to the crowd, subtly shifting back into a combat-ready position for a few seconds as she meticulously regained her breath, but… Jorfr didn’t spring back up. Not even as a deluge of coppers with a few silvers thrown in rained down into the pit.

He just sat there slumped on the ground, chest heaving, a manic grin plastered over his face. A laugh of satisfied disbelief erupted from him, thundering forth for a good ten seconds as he struggled to his feet, rolling his neck and shifting his jaw side to side to the sounds of unsettlingly loud popping.

“Hahahaha, that was outstanding! Truly, never before have I fought such a precise kineticist. And the instantaneous discharge at the end, I would not dare try to guess how you store that much potential energy. Let it be known that I am beaten!” beamed the norseman as he walked up to her, offering up another handshake.

A thought crossed Zel’s mind as they shook hands once more, “I suppose I AM a kineticist, now that he mentions it…”

The rain of coins thinned out, then quickly stopped save for a few last coppers.

She could see words brewing behind his eyes the moments before he took a deep breath and spoke in a much calmer tone: “I would… I would raise my bet, should you agree to a bout against me with both my arms free. It is true that I have no choice but to accept your victory in the first bout, but my ego demands that I face you with my full capabilities. Do me this honor and I shall put on the line the teachings of my homeland freely taught to you and yours… And ten hryvns of starmetal, that which you would know as meteoric cold-iron, each hryvn large enough to forge a dagger from. There is, of course, the matter of your questions, which I will be glad to answer regardless of whether you accept this challenge.”

Meanwhile, the same pithand resignedly jumped down again and began undoing his bindings with great deftness and speed. Just as quickly the pithand retreated, leaping up the wooden barrier and onto the edge as if he were some sort of mountain cat while Jorfr stretched his right arm, opening and closing his fingers.

Zel couldn’t help herself. With a grin she nodded at him, ostentatiously mimicking his curious manner of speech, “I, too, wish to fight you without holding back as much as I have been. But there’s the question of the previous bout - mine and your bets are not the only ones on the line. I find it hard to believe that Berga’s friends would be happy with their money being at risk for our entertainment.”

He let go of her hand, stating simply, “That will not be an issue, as bets work on a bout by bout basis. If anything, you’ve no reason to reject a second bout - I demand no bet on your part, merely perhaps the satisfaction of victory should I defeat you.”

“Then so be it,” agreed the slayer. She noticed Berga walk away from the edge of the pit, only for the crackling sound of Not-Quincy’s comical announcer persona to sound once more.

“Ladies and gentlemen it appears we have a second bout on our hands! If the fighters would please display saintly patience, a five-minute lightning-betting window will be opened!”

“Oh yeah, I forgot…” sighed Jorfr, turning around to stare at the metal cone whose top half was barely visible from down in the pit. He briefly looked back to Zelsys, remarking, “I suppose we both have time for a breather, then.” before he walked to his side of the arena and left through the door. In that short time Zel saw what was in there - a locker room, nothing more. Modern lockers among ancient stones.

She herself clambered up to the top, finding that, surprisingly, the patrons were eager to bet against her. Over and over they mentioned how Jorfr was scarcely at a fifth of his true strength with only one arm. And so, she was happy to simply have the barkeep tally up her winnings for the first bout without actually cashing out, instead reinvesting as much as she could into another bet against her opponent and leaving him to safeguard the rest behind those reassuringly thick steel bars. She also doubted she could get all that money into Fog Storage inside five minutes, unless it was all somehow in sovereigns.

Indeed, five minutes passed in what felt like a flash, with Zefaris by her side cheering her on in a manner that would never occur without the vast intoxicating potency of that Fruit Right Hook.

But alas, the nice moment was done, and back into the fight pit she went with a heretofore unmatched eagerness for violent sport.

Jorfr came out to face her exuding that very same sentiment, grinning ear to ear. Once more the announcer resounded: “Ladies and gentlemen, the second bout of this evening’s headlining match is about to begin!”

An inhalation that filled only one lung. An exhalation that emptied it and in turn filled the other. Again. And again. And again. Lightning at her command to exert true, absolute control over her own body, spiritual muscle memory that made such an unnatural motion all but mindless, and a rapidly pulsing current through the heart to make it pump blood faster than any normal human’s.