Silence. Then the announcer’s hesitant voice: “Kord Zell… is out of bounds. Eli Shane wins.”

The crowd erupted. Not in cheers for the flashy shots, but for the control . Eli hadn’t won with power. He’d won with patience. He walked over, offered Kord a hand, and helped him out of the water.

“How’d you know?” Kord asked, dripping wet but grinning.

The pale green slug shot out—but it didn’t morph. It hit the ground like a skipping stone. Pat-pat-pat-pat.

But for now, the Slug Terrace was safe. Eli Shane slid his Dozer back into his holster, tipped his hat to the crowd, and disappeared into the tunnels—already listening for the next rumble of trouble.

The neon lights of the cavern flickered, casting long, dancing shadows across the arena floor. Kord Zell, arms crossed like twin stalactites, glared across the rocky divide. “You sure about this, Cavern Ranger? My Moss-Eater has been starving for a win.”