---
The Fight Resumes
The moment the round restarted, Orion launched forward—no hesitation. Precision. Momentum. Control.
Zephyr? He just stood there.
A flicker of doubt passed through Orion's mind, but his body moved first. His fist shot toward Zephyr's ribs—an exact repeat of the opening exchange from before. This time, Zephyr didn't even try to dodge.
The impact landed clean. A solid strike—one that should have knocked the wind out of him.
But the moment Orion made contact, something was off.
Zephyr's stance, the way his muscles braced, the exact angle of his body—it was all too perfect.
Orion's eyes widened.
"Wait—"
Zephyr's arm snapped up in a blur, catching Orion's wrist at the exact moment of impact.
And then, like an echo—
A perfect counterpunch. Same technique. Same speed.
A sickening thud rang out as Orion's own strike was mirrored back into his ribs. His breath hitched as pain flared up his side, his footing faltering for the first time.
Zephyr tilted his head, grinning. "Funny thing about hitting people, Orion… you kind of give them ideas."
---
Adaptation vs. Calculation
Orion barely had time to process before Zephyr moved again—and this time, he moved like Orion.
Same footwork. Same rhythm. Same attack patterns.
Zephyr wasn't just dodging anymore. He was predicting.
Every feint Orion used in the last round? Zephyr didn't fall for them.
Every opening Orion had capitalized on? Zephyr didn't leave them.
He had learned.
"Impossible. He's copying me mid-fight?"
Orion's focus sharpened, adapting instantly. He adjusted his rhythm, shifting into a more unpredictable flow—but Zephyr adjusted right back.
And then…
Zephyr started getting ahead.
Orion threw a precise elbow—Zephyr blocked it a fraction of a second before he should have even known it was coming.
Orion shifted his stance—Zephyr shifted before him.
Orion exhaled sharply.
"He's not just mimicking me anymore."
"He's predicting me."
---
The Breaking Point
Orion stepped back, his mind racing. Think. Adjust. Control.
Zephyr's expression shifted. His usual lazy grin was gone—his eyes now sharper, calculating.
For the first time, Orion saw it clearly.
Zephyr had been playing dumb.
His nonchalant attitude, his lack of structure—it wasn't because he was reckless.
It was because he was waiting.
Waiting to steal Orion's style.
Zephyr cracked his neck. "Alright. I think I've got it now."
And then he blurred forward—
—moving exactly like Orion.
The first blow landed.
A fist to the ribs—Orion's own signature move, but sharper. Faster. Better.
Then came the knee to the gut.
Then a twisting kick.
Orion gritted his teeth, his body absorbing the damage—but the problem wasn't the pain.
It was the realization.
"I'm losing… to myself."
---
AI Commentary
"WOAH! Would you look at that! Zephyr has downloaded Orion's fighting style like a shady torrent!"
"Current analysis: ORION 49% WIN PROBABILITY… wait, no, 48%—oh, this is exciting!"
"Zephyr has officially gone from 'dodging guy' to 'copycat menace'—ladies and gentlemen, we have a mirror match on our hands!"
Orion spat blood to the side, his eyes narrowing.
"Fine."
"Let's make this simple."
---
End of Chapter 47