Woolk brushed dust from his pants and drew his machete.
“Simple. We cut them down and guard the flag.”

“But that’s Jhoanna!”

“So what? Getting scared already?”

Ester and Judit drew their blades.
“Let’s show Yano and Gozen we can handle ourselves!” Woolk roared.
“We protect our flag!”

“URAH!” the two shouted, charging forward.

Woolk went straight for Jhoanna.
Ester faced Misandor.
Judit moved toward Melkior.

The two sides clashed a hundred meters from the black flag.
Weapons clashed, echoing across the dunes. Sand burst beneath their feet.

Woolk laughed mid-fight.
“Hey Jhoanna, four points, huh?
Means you’re hiding a flag somewhere.
Tell me where it is, and I’ll save you the trouble of stripping for me—unless you’d prefer that.”

Jhoanna gritted her teeth.
“Go ahead, check your pants, Woolk — you’ll still come up empty.
I bet your manhood only works when you’re training alone.”

He grinned. “Let’s test that.”

Their weapons clashed again.
Jhoanna let him burn through his rage, waiting for the perfect moment.

――

Ester and Misandor were evenly matched.
He had strength.
She had speed.
Weapons whistled, air snapped, sweat flew.

A few meters away, Melkior and Judit circled each other cautiously—two tacticians searching for a weakness.

Then Ester saw it.
A piece of white cloth sticking out from Misandor’s pocket.

She feinted high.
Misandor lowered his stance to counter.
She ducked beneath him and struck—
a punch to the inner thigh, a sharp hit to the groin.

He dropped to his knees with a strangled cry.
Ester snatched the white flag from his pocket and raised it high.

“Guys! I got a flag!!”

Misandor, writhing in pain, refused to surrender.
He grabbed her waist and pulled her down.
The two rolled across the sand, fighting over the flag, hitting and clawing in fury.

“Damn it, Misandor! Take that flag back!” shouted Jhoanna, glancing their way for a split second.

She was about to counter when something stole her glance.
A shadow.
It streaked past a pile of rocks.

Jhoanna spun — and saw Finde rushing toward Ester and Misandor, still on the ground.

“No! No, no!! Misandor, watch out!!”

She moved to run toward them… but a burning stab hit the back of her head.
Her vision blurred. Her legs gave way.
She dropped to her knees, feeling the pain — her fingers came away red.

“Never turn your back on your opponent, Jhoanna.”
Woolk smiled, proud and swollen.
Then he landed a brutal punch to her face.

The world flipped.
Jhoanna hit the sand, spitting blood.
She fought to stay conscious.

She saw Woolk bolt toward Ester and Misandor.
I can’t let him reach them.
She acted on instinct. She slid her blade between his feet.

Woolk tripped and crashed down.

“Fuckin’ bitch!” he snarled as he scrambled up.

But Jhoanna lunged onto him, pinning him under her weight.
The impact took his breath away.

They writhed, both trying to get up.
Woolk was faster.
He grabbed her throat with one hand and smashed a savage punch with the other.
The blow snapped her head back.

He was about to finish her when, suddenly, Jhoanna’s eyes flew open and she spat in his face — blood and saliva.

Woolk staggered, blinded.

She hit him with a savage hook under the chin.

Woolk staggered, gasping for air.
Jhoanna grabbed his collar and finished him with a headbutt — forehead to nose.
A dry crack.
The giant collapsed, unconscious.

Jhoanna lost her balance and fell beside him.
Damn beast… I can’t pass out. She thought.

She inhaled hard.
The world spun. Blood ran from her nose, mouth, and the back of her head.
She forced herself up, swaying.

Come on, Jhoanna. Don’t go out. Breathe.

She turned her head: Ester and Misandor lay on the ground, gasping, scratched and bitten.

What froze her gut was Finde’s back — running north, disappearing.
The white flag was nowhere.

“Fuck! Fuck, goddamn it!!” she screamed, furious.

She took a step north, then stopped.
She glanced sideways — Melkior and Judit were still fighting, exhausted, faces bruised.

Jhoanna clenched her teeth and sprinted to the black flag.
Her legs trembled. Each step was a dagger in her skull.

She reached the black flag, untied it, shoved it into her pocket, and set off after Finde.

The first hundred meters were hell.
The world lurched, nausea knocking at her.
She stopped, breathed, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a small gelatinous pouch.

She tore it open with her teeth.
She swallowed.

Clarity returned. Her legs found power again.

“Much better,” she mumbled, and ran on.

After a few hundred meters she stopped dead.
A figure stood before her, arms crossed, a weasel’s grin on his face.

“I’m really tired of this. Get the hell out of my way, Guster.
I don’t have time for your scrotum-face.”

He chuckled softly.
“Drop the black flag, Jhoanna, and you can go where you like.”

She sighed, rolled her eyes, and raised her hands in a theatrical gesture.
“We chase Finde together, Guster.
I keep the black flag, you grab the white one he’s carrying. Seems fair, no?”

Guster burst out laughing.
“Big Jhoanna asking the awful Guster for an alliance!
You must be desperate.
The answer is no — unless you want to kneel and give me a little favor here, out in Castor Desert.
What a perfect image of my total victory.”

Jhoanna looked at her bracelet.

Black Team: –8
Red Team: +2
White Team: +8
Blue Team: –2
Time remaining: 40 minutes

She gripped her sword.

“I’ll waste precious time to smash that shitty face of yours, Guster.”

She stepped forward, ready to fight.

――

Finde ran north.
His heart hammered.
He had to reach Katrin.
Secure the white flag.
Victory would be theirs.

He checked his bracelet.
Thirty minutes left.

He recognized the spot.
The rock with the natural crevice.
He whistled.
A short answering sound.

“Katrin! It’s me!”

He climbed in.

She sat there, a smile that lit up everything.

“Finde! I saw the scores! You’re amazing!”

She stood, limping, and threw her arms around his neck.

Finde laughed, embarrassed.

A voice from outside chilled them.
“Out, you two! Now!”

Katrin whispered, “Did they follow you?”

Finde frowned.
“Damn… no. I didn’t notice.”

He grabbed the red flag and shoved it in his pocket.
Then he handed her a small jute bundle.

“Keep this. Don’t ask. Open it only when I tell you, okay? It’s important.”

“What’s in it?”

“Do you trust me?”

“…Yes. I trust you.”

――

The voice outside grew harsher.
“Hey, whites! If you don’t come out, I’ll drag you out by force.”

They stepped out together into the desert.

In front of them, Gozen, his arms crossed over his chest.
A victorious smile on his face.
"Give me the flags, or I will hurt you badly."