The General growls something in Mogadorian. It sounds like a command. Under my feet, beneath the asphalt, a generator of some kind vibrates to life.

I feel a static charge as a dome-shaped force field rises up over the basketball court, trapping me with the General. Everything is suddenly very quiet, the noise of the Chimærae mauling the Mogadorians blocked out by the force field.

I take a step away from the nearest wall, sensing the same type of electric jolt that we encountered at the base in West Virginia. I remember how sick I was after that—it took me days to recover—and know that I can’t get too close.

Even as I’m thinking this, an overeager Chimæra in the shape of a tiger flings herself at the General. The blue energy repulses the pouncing Chimæra, shocks her and leaves her in a convulsing heap on the ground, still very much outside the force field.

“We used to fight Piken against each other in this place,” the General muses, waving his hand at the enclosed space. “It was a reward for the vatborn. Pity more of them aren’t here to witness today’s contest.”

“You want some alone time with me, is that it?” I taunt the General, making sure to put some distance between me and the force field.

“I want to kill you in peace,” he replies. “With your many friends watching helplessly.”

“Good luck with that.”

Without hesitation, I charge towards the General, pitching fireballs at him as I go. He absorbs each of them. Huge chunks of his uniform burn away, but I don’t seem to be doing any damage to the armor underneath. Not letting any pain register on his face, the General rushes right for me, like he’s going to barrel into me.

He probably weighs a solid two hundred pounds more than me with that armor. But screw it.

We crash together and the wind goes out of me, but I manage to stay upright. I press my hand, still engulfed by the flames of my Lumen, against the side of the General’s face. He lets out a grunt of pain, but that’s his only reaction to me burning his face, his pale skin searing black and popping. Both of his hands wrap around my throat, big enough that his fingers overlap at the back of my neck.

He squeezes my neck and immediately dark spots form in my vision. I can’t breathe. With the hand not burning the side of the General’s face, I pry at his fingers. It feels like my throat will completely collapse if I let his grip get any tighter.

It’s hard to concentrate with him choking me, but I manage to keep up the intensity of my Lumen while simultaneously using my telekinesis. I maneuver my dagger out from beneath my pant leg. Without a free hand, I gather as much telekinetic force as I can muster and send the blade lancing towards the General’s heart.

My dagger deflects off his armor. Before I can stab at him again, he tightens his grip on my throat and I lose control of my telekinesis. Feeling faint, it’s all I can do to keep my Lumen burning against the side of his face.