Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

Chapter 272: Eleanor’s First Loss

Eleanor moved like a phantom. Sliding beneath a hammer arc, she drove her fingers crackling with Lightning

Touch into the strained joint. The electricity did nothing, but the focused physical force, guided by Killing

Precision, struck true. There was a sharp pop and a grunt of genuine pain from Barrock. His left arm went

momentarily slack, the hammer dipping.

She pressed her advantage... unrelenting, methodical. A flurry of brutal, exacting kicks crashed into his leading

leg, each aimed at the knee. His dragon scales flared to defend, holding firm, yet the concussive impact left

microfractures spidering through the surface. He was being worn down; the immovable fortress chipped away

piece by piece.

Frustration and pain finally broke his disciplined guard. His eyes flared with psionic light... Petrifying Gaze!

A wave of crushing psychic weight slammed into Eleanor’s mind. It wasn’t illusion but domination: a direct

command from a primordial creature to stop... to becstone. Her muscles seized, her body freezing mid-

strike.

But her mind, shielded by Clarity Veil, remained her own. It howled against the imprisonment of her flesh. She

fought back with the will of an Alpha and the will of a Mind Reaver. The psychic feedback was immense. Veins

bulged across Barrock’s temple; blood trickled from Eleanor’s nose.

With a gasp that felt like tearing her own lungs apart, she shattered the effect and stumbled back.

They stood panting, a dozen paces apart, the platform between them a wasteland of craters and fissures. Both

were bleeding from multiple wounds. Eleanor’s regeneration faltered, her body a map of bruises and shallow

cuts. Barrock moved with a pronounced limp, his left arm hanging at an awkward angle, his face a mask of blood

and grim resolve.

She no longer had the strength for subtlety. Her eyes widened, and something within them shifted. The brilliance

of her intellect remained, but it was now eclipsed by a vast, terrifying emptiness. Eye of Wisdom.

For a heartbeat, Barrock felt as though a predator beyond comprehension was gazing upon him. A hollow infinity

yawned before him, threatening to devour his spirit whole. His will was his pride, but he felt it was being

wavered.

It was the opening Eleanor needed. Gathering the final reserves of her strength, every last spark her body could

muster, she lunged. This was her perfect strike... the culmination of every motion, every calculation. Her hand,

charged with a Lightning Projectile at point-blank range, shot towards the centre of his chest, seeking the heart

that beat beneath his unyielding defence.

But in imposing her will upon him in showing him the void... she had, for a fraction of a second, broken her own

Mental Lock. She no longer saw as a predator, but with the detached clarity of the Eye.

It was a mistake Barrock’s primal instincts would never allow.

The void she revealed awakened something deeper... an ancestral terror, the dread of extinction. It triggered a

survival response beyond thought or strategy. As her hand flashed towards his heart, his own instinct took

command. Granite Fist.

His attacking arm encased itself in stone, swelling into a boulder-sized construct of solid rock. He didn’t aim to

strike her... he struck the space she occupied. No precision, no restraint. Just pure, concussive force.

Her lightning-wreathed hand was mere centimetres from his chest when the Granite Fist collided with her torso.

The sound wasn’t loud. It was a deep, sickening thud... an impact that reverberated through the coliseum, heavy

and final.

Eleanor’s eyes widened in shock. All the air in her lungs was driven out in a soundless gasp. She felt her ribs, her

sternum and everything in her upper body simply break. The force lifted her off her feet and hurled her

backwards like a discarded doll.

She struck the ground twenty feet away, skidding to a stop against the cracked boundary post. She didn't rise.

Barrock stood where he was, swaying slightly from the recoil of his own strike. The Granite Fist crumbled into

dust and pebbles, raining down around him. The backlash of pushing a bloodline art beyond its limit... combined

with the psychic feedback from Petrifying Gaze and the accumulated damage finally took its toll. His arms fell to

his sides, the twin hammers dangling limply from his hands.

He looked at Eleanor’s broken form. There was no triumph in his eyes, only a heavy, exhausted respect. He took

a staggering step, then another... not towards her, but towards the edge of the platform. He needed to hold on to

something, to prove he was still on his feet.

He reached the boundary rope and wrapped his bloodied fingers around it, his knuckles turning white. Leaning

heavily, he drew ragged, painful breaths. His body was a ruin... bruised, bleeding, one arm dislocated, his leg

trembling beneath him. The platform was a monument to their battle, and they were its shattered relics.

Eleanor lay among the broken stones. A faint tremor rippled through her body, the backlash of overusing her

bloodline powers... the Mind Reaver’s insight and the Thunderbolt’s speed collapsing in on her shattered frame.

Her regeneration had slowed to a crawl, her body drained of every last scrap of energy.

She was conscious only of the pain... a vast, all-consuming sea of it. She couldn't move. She could only lie there,

staring up at the artificial sky, the taste of copper and defeat thick on her tongue.

The victor stood clutching the rope, unable to let go. The vanquished lay broken, unable to rise. Between them

sprawled the wreckage and a silent understanding that neither had truly lost, for both had given everything they

possessed.

Eleanor knew what she had to do to end the pain. Her lips parted, her voice a rasping whisper.

"| accept defeat."

Eleanor opened her eyes inside the space capsule, as usual. Despite the splitting headache and a lingering

weakness, there was no trace of the near-death experience she had endured in the duelling ring. It was the first

tshe had gone all out and still lost. Though she had known it was a possibility, the reality of defeat left a

bitter taste in her mind.

The capsule’s overhead cover slid open with its familiar hiss, but she didn’t move right away. She closed her

eyes again, waiting for the pounding in her skull to ease. When the pain dulled to something tolerable, she

climbed out... only to sense someone approaching.

Turning, she saw Barrock Deepdelver Ironhide walking towards her with a broad smile.

"It was a good fight," he said as he ccloser. "I never thought a werewolf could matchin strength."

He extended a massive hand for a shake. "If not for my ability to nullify lightning, I'd have been roasted in the

ring. Thank you for fighting to the end... it was a great experience."

Eleanor clasped his hand firmly. "Sto you. It was a good fight. We can have a spar again when we both have

time."

"Sure," Barrock agreed readily. "My grandfather always says a serious fight reveals a person's true character. |

liked yours. Don’t getwrong," he added with a laugh, "I've no interest in mating with you. Besides, my clan

forbids intraspecies marriage."

He chuckled, then went on, "I've never visited the surface world. Once | becan Ascendant, I'll be allowed to

travel for a few years. | hope you'll spare stforthen... and showyour domain as a friend."

Eleanor smiled politely and nodded. "All right. Let's be friends. Contactwhen you're free to roam the secular

world."

Ophelia had already finished her fight and joined them, so Eleanor ended the conversation and walked over to

her other friends.

Phoebe had won four matches, like

Eleanor, but had lost to Ignatius

)

Emberfall... the vgemenesaop

Sorina ol professors

and combat instructors had praised

him beforehand; his classmates

: : )

called him a genius. Phoebe's defeat,

then, felt justified. The content is on

novelenglish.net! Read the latest

chapter there!

Marsha had won all her matches. Ophelia had lost two and won three. Izumi had the srecord as Ophelia,

while Maira had lost three and drawn one; she felt somewhat down about it, and the others tried to cheer her up.

When they left the academic building, the group met Jaciara and Kiara, who had been waiting for them after

watching the fights in the auditorium. Together they headed to the dining hall with the rest of the students.

That evening the videos of all the

matches were published, and the

3 a

group gathered in Maira’s room to

devise countermeasures for their

opponents. Everyqne wanted©

Efeanonsltake. she had a knack for

q ) o

deducting an opponent's style piece

by piece, and they valued her

0 ] 0

analysis. What they didn't know was

that it was really Nora doing the

heavy lifting. She could analyse the

footage frby frame, spot minute

9 . , 3

flaws in each fighter's technique, and

suggest ways to exploit those

weaknesses using their own styles.

The girls knew nothing about Nora,

and Eleanor would never reveal her.

Nora was her ultimate secret. To

them, all the battle tyes

S ely fropuElednor the prodigy who

iT ’

could dissect any opponent's

technique at a glance, no matter how

subtle the flaw. It fit perfectly with

what they already believed of her...

that her bloodline granted her

extraordinary perception and combat

insight. The content is on

novelenglish.net! Read the latest

chapter there!

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