“Jon!”

He heard the muffled sounds of Thalia’s cry pierce through the monotony of it all. He had to make sure he kept fighting. For her sake. So she didn’t have to see him go down.

He turned back just to see Rasheem make another horizontal swing at him.

He fired at the ground, sending himself into a side somersault as he dodged Rasheem’s next attack. He stood back up beside Raheem's hammer.

“Whoa!” The crowd had recognized the swiftness of the movement.

Rasheem swung again. Jon relaxed his body, falling backwards.

The hammer swung over his face. Jon’s body was nearly horizontal with the ground before he fired his download downward, pushing himself back upright.

There was another cheer from the crowd. Jon shot forward, propelling himself backwards.

He wasn’t finished, pointing to the floor and firing, changing his direction again, this time into the air towards his opponent.

He flung himself high over Rasheem, aiming to the sky and shooting before bringing the butt of the gun down on Rasheem’s head.

It hit true, Jon tumbling away from his successful attack.

Raheem had been forced onto his knees, not having been floored completely.

When he stood up, he was rubbing the back of his head in pain.

“You need to hit me more than several times!” Rasheem cried, “I only need to hit you once!”

So be it, Jon thought. He didn’t have anything to say. Only to respect Rasheem’s words.

Hit them in the head until they go down.

Raheem swung upwards, the hammer leaving the ground at an incredible speed. Jon had already predicted this, shooting and sending himself into a rapid spin on his heels. He spun while moving in an arc towards Rasheem’s back.

Jon had been in the battle long enough to start predicting his opponents movements. He stopped himself and spun once in the opposite direction, dodging Rasheem’s quick turnaround attack.

He dropped into a slide, going underneath Rasheem and pointing up at his astonished face.

Wind.

He focused his attack at the end of his muzzle again and fired.

The attack spell pressed Jon’s body against the floor due to the recoil. It hit Rasheem in his face, sending him back and making him drop his hammer. Rasheem landed onto his back, hammer free.

A rush of air came into Jon’s lungs, and he took a breath of both relief and disbelief.

It’s over.

He heard a deep chuckle.

Oh no.

Jon nearly groaned as he sat up. Rasheem sat across from him, relatively unscathed.

“You’re giving a good fight!” Rasheem said. “Nothing I’ve encountered before has prepared me for this skirmish. However, you are getting tired. I only need to snatch you once.

Jon observed his opponent. He looked like he was getting tired as well, but getting tired didn’t amount to a knockout.

Jon thought about his rapidly clutching chest.

Is this how Mallory feels all the time?

Jon groaned as he stood up. Rasheem did as well.

Rasheem held onto hammer as he stood, however, as he lifted the handle, it’s head stayed on the ground.

It must be really heavy. Jon figured Rasheem was waiting to lift the entire thing until he needed it. It must have been taxing to wield.

Taxing.

Using the hammer cost energy. So, it probably wasn’t a bonded weapon. If that hammer was from the stonetooth clan, maybe it worked on other stonetooth members.

Effective.

Still, Jon needed to hit Rasheem before he moved again. He needed something debilitating.

Fire?

Jon decided to go with it. He aimed at Rasheem, imagining the burgeoning spark inside of the chamber of the gun.

Fire.

Jon fired several small fire pellets in a row. They sailed into Rasheem’s abs, making a small popping sound as they each hit one after the other.

That’s not enough.

Jon waited for Rasheem to laugh it off.

Instead, Rasheem bowed over and covered his stomach with his free arm,

“That… hurt…” Rasheem choked.

Oh.

Rasheem’s grip was already slipping on his hammer. Jon needed to act now.

He ran up to the hammer and stepped on its head.

The hammer lifted from Rasheem’s hand and tilted towards Jon, landing on his shoulder.

Jon moved backwards until he was at the end of the hammer.

“That’s way too heavy for someone not of the clans!” Rasheem yelled. “You- Agh!” He grabbed his stomach again.

Jon checked the handle for its size. He then shoved the end of the hammer into his gun barrel. Of course, it only went as far as the gun had space. The opposite end of the hammer stuck out.

“It doesn’t fit!” Tasheem cried.

But it does.

Jon would have had a hard time picking up the hammer normally from its weight, but he knew he could give himself help.

He pressed the trigger and swung hard.

The blast from the gun lifted the hammer and sent Jon into a large spin.

In the spin, the hammer swung wide, slapping Rasheem in the face as it passed.

Rasheem was flung into the air, landing just at the edge of the stage. He was still in.

Have to get him off, Jon told himself.

Now that he didn’t have the momentum anymore, he wobbled left and right, keeping the head of the hammer in the air as much as he could.

He knelt down on one knee, putting the barrel of the gun on his raised thigh and pointing at the recovering Rasheem.

He knew that his gun would need some help ejecting the hammer.

Fire.

He imagined the small spark within the chamber of his gun as he pulled the trigger.

The hammer shot hard, propelled by the minor spell of Jon’s gun.

It sailed through the air, heading straight towards its owner.

Rasheem didn’t get any words in before the head of the hammer slammed into his gut.

Both he and the hammer were launched off the stage.

People in the crowd dispersed as Rasheem’s body slammed into the seats.

His unconscious body went limp, as he if had been sitting down and watching the battle.

The moment was so still Jon hadn’t even realized he wasn’t breathing until the air finally came back into his lungs.

It’s over?

The crowd roared in unison. Jon had forgotten about them.

He watched a staggered but amused Jocasta walk up to him and grab his hand. She held it up in the air.

“Your winner is Jon the Farmer!” Jocasta yelled, riling another cheer from the crowd. Jon could already hear his name being called from the crowd.

“Jon! Jon! Jon! Jon!” Jon was mildly impressed by the calls in his name.

He looked over at Thalia. She wasn’t there.

Oh. He frowned. He wanted to know what she had thought of it.

“Are you looking for our little friend?”

Jon looked at Jocasta, who was waiting for an answer from him.

He nodded furiously.

“She’s back up there with your magician friend.” Jocasta told him. “She ran off during the fight.”

“Thanks,” he said. He let go of her hand and got down from the stage.

“Wasn’t that a great match!” Jocasta’s voice elevated again while Jon ran up the steps. He was tired, and he wanted to see his friends.