A sharp inhale filled my lungs as my body jolted slightly, my eyes snapping open—only to be met with a sea of white. Blinking rapidly, I tried to assess my surroundings, only to find my vision hopelessly blurred. Rubbing my eyes did little to help, and a low groan escaped my lips. As I shifted slightly, I became aware of a soft yet substantial weight draped over me, its warmth offering an unexpected sense of comfort.

Squinting, I attempted to make sense of the hazy blur of colours surrounding me, trying to determine where exactly I was. When that proved useless, I resigned myself to waiting, hoping my vision would clear with time.

Minutes passed. Slowly but surely, my eyesight returned, and though clarity brought no immediate answers, I could piece together a few things. The sterile white walls, the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor, and the rigid metal frame of the bed beneath me all pointed to one conclusion—I was in a hospital. A quick glance at the clock on the wall informed me that it was seven-thirty in the morning.

Yet, something felt off. This place didn’t resemble the typical rural hospitals I was used to. The walls were too pristine, the equipment too state-of-the-art. Everything about it screamed expensive. Too expensive. Then again, I’d been wrong before.

Pushing myself up into a sitting position, I immediately registered my lack of clothing—aside from a simple pair of white pants. My eyes flicked around the room, searching for my equipment, but I found nothing. Just as I was about to swing my legs over the side of the bed, the door swung open, and a nurse strode in with purposeful speed.

Without sparing me a glance, she stepped to the foot of my bed, retrieving a clipboard that hung from the frame. Her movements were practised, mechanical—almost as if she were running on autopilot. A quiet chuckle left me, breaking the silence. The sound seemed to pull her from her routine, and she finally looked up.

I offered her a lazy smile and a shaky two-finger salute.

For a brief moment, her lips curved into a small but genuine smile before she refocused on the clipboard in her hands. Then, as if the reality of the situation had just struck her, her expression dropped, and her head snapped back up with wide eyes.

“Oh my goodness!” She exclaimed, fumbling with the clipboard. “You’re awake!”

“Hello to you too,” I greeted, my voice coming out rough and dry.

“You shouldn’t be up yet,” She muttered, flipping through a few pages before looking back at me and stepping over to the various equipment I was wired up to. Once she did a basic check, she got closer to me, shining a light in my eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got run over and shat on,” I said, rolling my shoulders with a wince as the Nurse stepped back. “But hey, I’ve got a pulse, so I’d say that’s a win.”

She let out a small breath, shaking her head. “That’s honestly good news, considering the state you were in when you arrived. Based on your injuries, we projected you wouldn’t wake for at least a few more days.”

“What can I say? I’m just built different,” I smirked.

“That you are,” She mused, scanning the clipboard again. “Frankly, you’re something of a miracle. You lost the majority of your blood and suffered multiple stab wounds—any of which should have been fatal, even with the Princess’s healing magic.”

“Like I said,” I shrugged. “Built different.”

She huffed a quiet laugh before shaking her head.

“How long was I out?” I asked.

“Only three days.”

“Three days?” I repeated, blinking.

She nodded.

“Damn,” I muttered. “That was quick.”

Honestly, given the state I had been in, I was surprised I hadn’t been out for longer. That had been my first real fight—my first real test to see what I was capable of. All things considered, I think I handled myself pretty well. More importantly, it proved to me that my body was still keeping secrets from me. My healing factor, for instance. I hadn't been injured enough—if at all—during my time in the Everfree to notice it, so realizing that I had a healing ability, and an advanced one at that, was nothing short of shocking. I had a few theories about it, but I'd need time to test them before I could confirm or disprove anything.

"If you don’t mind, could I get a glass of water?" I asked, my throat feeling dry.

"Oh! Of course," The Nurse replied with a nod. "And while I’m at it, I’ll fetch a doctor and some temporary clothes for you as well."

"Temporary clothes?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, your outfit sustained some damage during the skirmish," She explained. She must have caught the look on my face because she quickly reassured me, "From what I was told, the damage was fairly minimal, so repairs should be easy. You'll have them back soon enough."

"Oh, good," I sighed in relief. "I’ve grown quite attached to that jacket."

And it was true. Despite not having owned it for long, I had somehow found comfort in that jacket. It was probably the only reason I had been able to sleep in the Everfree. A little sad, maybe, but at the time, I had taken whatever small comforts I could get. Plus, it didn’t hurt that purple was my favourite colour.

"What about my other equipment?" I asked.

"The Princesses have ensured that your belongings are being kept safe," She replied. "They'll be notified of your recovery, and once you’re discharged, your things will be returned to you."

"Fair enough," I shrugged. "As long as I get them back, I don’t really mind."

"If that's all, I’ll be back shortly."

"Wait," I called after her before she could leave. "Where are we?"

"We're in Canterlot Castle’s medical wing," She said with a polite smile before stepping out.

Canterlot? Well, that certainly explained why everything around me looked so damn expensive. I was in Equestria’s damn capital city.

I didn’t have much time to dwell on that before the nurse returned, carrying a jug of water. Behind her, an older gentleman with a dull maroon horn followed, holding a set of simple clothes.

"Though I’m glad to see you’re awake," The Doctor said, setting a neatly folded set of clothes on a nearby chair and placing a pair of basic white shoes on the floor. "I must admit, I’m quite surprised you’re up so soon."

"Yeah, I can imagine," I replied with a smirk. "But like I told the nurse—I’m just built different."

"So it would seem," He smirked. "I’m Doctor Grey, and this is Nurse Joy. We’ve been overseeing your care for the past few days."

"Thank you," I said sincerely.

"No need," He responded with a warm smile. "We’re just doing our jobs. If anything, we should be the ones thanking you. Both of us have family in Ponyville, and what you did…well, it was nothing short of extraordinary. You’re a hero to many."

I shook my head. "No need. Just doing my job," I repeated, earning a chuckle from them both. "Besides, I’m no hero."

"Say what you want," Nurse Joy interjected as she poured water into a glass, "but you saved a lot of lives." She handed the glass to me before setting the pitcher down on the bedside table.

"Regardless," Doctor Grey continued, flipping through his clipboard, "there are a few procedures we need to go through. Just some routine exercises and check-ups. But first, we’ll let you get changed."

The tests were as basic as he’d claimed. After dressing, I went through a series of mobility and dexterity evaluations, followed by coordination, balance, and reaction-time assessments. Then came the standard medical check-ups—blood pressure, heart rate, the usual. They even threw in some memory tests for good measure. Everything was straightforward but thorough enough to confirm I was both physically and mentally fit for discharge. And, unsurprisingly, I passed with flying colours.

Once we were done, we made our way to the front desk, where I was handed a stack of paperwork to fill out. It didn’t take long, and soon enough, I was being led to the exit. Before stepping out, I turned back to Doctor Grey and Nurse Joy.

"Seriously. Thank you."

They gave me a nod, and with that, I was on my way. Gotta show appreciation where it’s due.

After our brief farewell, I left the hospital wing—only to realize I had absolutely no clue where the hell I was going. So, with no better plan in mind, I picked a direction and went with it, wandering through the castle’s endless halls.

Everywhere I looked, the craftsmanship was breathtaking. From the intricately carved pillars to the polished marble floors, every inch of this place spoke of artistry and history. As I walked, I passed maids, butlers, and guards, all of whom seemed to either avoid eye contact or steal furtive glances in my direction, whispering amongst themselves as I passed. I ignored it. For now. I had enough on my mind.

Just how messed up was this timeline? What did the demons signify? Was this the reason I was here? Why I have these powers? If this was the universe’s idea of a joke, then damn, it was a cruel one. I rubbed my temples, trying to stave off another incoming headache.

Eventually, I found myself stepping onto a balcony. I leaned against the stone railing, exhaling as I took in the view. The sight before me was nothing short of stunning—an endless sprawl of a city, far grander and more vast than its cartoon counterpart. From here, I could even see Ponyville in the distance, its quaint charm starkly contrasting the horrors of the other night. It looked peaceful from up here. Almost untouched. But I knew better.

The thought of what came next gnawed at me. Surely someone would have come to see me in the hospital. A place this big—sure. But news travelled fast, even in castles. It made me wonder what exactly the Princesses were planning. Were they giving me space? Or was this some kind of test? If so, what was it they were trying to gauge?

Whatever it was, I had a feeling I’d be finding out soon enough.

Hearing footsteps approach from behind, I turned my head ever so slightly as they halted just a meter or two away.

"Are you Sir Percival Felwinter?"

I didn't turn to face the speaker right away. Instead, I kept my gaze on the scenery before me, idly rubbing my chin, feeling the rough texture of the stubble that had grown in over the past few days. My voice was calm but measured as I responded.

"Who's asking?"

There was a sharp click of boots as the individual snapped to attention, followed by the faint clink of armour shifting.

"Sergeant Blossomforth, sir!"

At that, I finally turned, one eyebrow arching as I took in the sight before me. Sure enough, it was none other than Blossomforth. That was unexpected. I didn’t recall her ever being part of the Guard, which made this an interesting turn of events—one I certainly hadn’t seen coming. A surprise to be sure, but not an unwelcome one.

She was clad in red and white segmented plate armour, a design seemingly built for both protection and manoeuvrability. Light cream and pink hair poked through the openings of her helmet, framing her face. A pair of light grey wings rested against her back, and a short spear was securely locked between them.

I crossed my arms. "What can I do for you, Sergeant?"

"If you don’t mind me asking, sir…is it true that you single-handedly defeated ten demons?"

I raised an eyebrow at that, scrutinizing her expression. There was curiosity there, but also something else.

"Closer to fifteen or sixteen, actually," I corrected slowly, my tone neutral. "But yes, I did."

A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Would you be willing to spar with me?"

I tilted my head slightly, regarding her with measured interest. "And what exactly are your intentions?"

Her smirk faded as she removed her helmet, revealing an expression tinged with guilt. "I serve in the Ponyville Guard, but I was away in Cloudsdale attending meetings when the attack happened. If we had been there, it would have been our duty to protect the town. Instead, you were the one who stepped in and prevented innocent bloodshed." She hesitated, her gaze steady. "I just want to see, firsthand, the strength of the man who saved my home. That is if you’re willing."

I studied her carefully as she spoke. Her words were sincere, but there was something more beneath the surface—something unspoken. Whatever it was, I chose to let it slide for now.

"Alright then," I said slowly, watching as her expression brightened with a faint smile. "Where do you want to do this?"

"If you’d follow me to the training grounds," She replied. "There will likely be other Guards there already. I trust you don’t mind an audience?"

"Not at all," I said, gesturing for her to lead the way. "After you, Sergeant."

As I stepped in line behind her, a thought lingered in the back of my mind. Something about this felt…deliberate. It definitely felt like a test, orchestrated by the Princesses. The real question was—what exactly were they trying to find out?

Following closely behind Blossom, it took us about fifteen to twenty minutes to finally reach the Guard’s training grounds. The facility was a well-equipped, enclosed gym seamlessly connected to an extensive outdoor training area. Inside, the gym housed all the essentials: punching bags, training dummies, weightlifting equipment, treadmills, and other standard workout gear. But outside, amidst the assault courses, shooting ranges, and several smaller sections—presumably for basic training—one particular structure caught my attention.

A massive, elevated circular arena, roughly twenty feet in diameter, stood several feet above the rest of the training ground. Its prominence suggested it was meant for something more than just routine drills. It was clear that whatever was about to happen would be a spectacle.

As we exited the inner gym, several Guards paused their training, murmuring to their nearest comrades. Their whispers carried a mix of curiosity and anticipation, as if they had already guessed what was about to unfold. As we approached the arena, more Guards began to gather, forming a loose circle around it.

Stepping into the ring, I was suddenly hit with a blinding wave of pain. A sharp migraine pulsed through my skull, forcing me to one knee as knowledge surged through my mind like a floodgate had been forced open. Techniques—both lethal and non-lethal—materialized in my vision, flashing before me like a malfunctioning slide projector. It was disorienting, almost overwhelming.

This sensation wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. A similar experience had occurred when I first wielded my sword and Ace, but this time, it was far more painful—most likely a result of my most recent battle. That fight had taken a serious toll, not just on my body but on my mind as well. It was becoming evident that this body carried more secrets than I had anticipated, and if I wanted to truly understand my own abilities, I needed to find a way to unlock them. Was this some kind of defence mechanism? A subconscious safeguard that only activated my full potential when necessary? No clue. That was a problem for future me to figure out.

Noticing my sudden falter, one of the Guards instinctively stepped forward to assist, but before they could reach me, Blossom was already at my side. She lifted me to my feet, steadying me as I lightly gripped her forearms, the migraine gradually fading.

"Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to challenge you so soon after being discharged," She said, concern evident in her voice.

I exhaled sharply, shaking off the lingering dizziness. "No, no. I’m good."

"No. This idea was foolish," She said, her quiet tone telling something in the back of my mind something was off.

Clearing my throat, I let go of her and took a step back.

"I'm fine," I said resolutely. "Besides, I'm a man of my word. Can't let a promise sit."

"If you're sure…" She replied, hesitant but willing to trust my judgment.

Satisfied with my response, she stepped away and made her way to the opposite side of the arena.

"This platform is primarily used for duels within the Guard," She explained, her voice carrying easily over the gathered audience. "We also use it for training in advanced formations, friendly tournaments, and occasionally to settle disputes between Guards."

"Ooh, fancy," I quipped, adding a dramatic flourish with my hands. My exaggerated jazz hands earned a few chuckles from the onlookers. "So, what’s this? A dispute or just a casual spar?"

"After what you did for Ponyville, no Guard worth their salt here would have a dispute with you," She replied, many of the Guards around us nodding and murmuring in agreement as Blossom drew her short spear. "This is just a friendly competition. Let us see you for ourselves."

I smirked, rolling my shoulders. "Fair enough. What’re the rules?"

"Ringouts, submissions, and knockouts are all valid ways to end the match," She stated matter-of-factly. "Just no fatal blows."

"Simple, clean, easy to remember," I mused. "I like it."

She gave a single nod. "Ready?"

I stretched my neck, earning a series of loud pops and cracks as I let out a relaxed sigh. Turning slightly, I adjusted my stance so my side faced her. "Ready when you are!" I called out, flashing a grin.

Her frown deepened at my carefree attitude, but it didn't seem to be annoyance or irritation, just curiosity. She wasted no time in mirroring my stance.

"Very well," She said.

And just as the words left her lips, she lunged.

Crouching low, she used her wings to propel herself forward with impressive speed, while I simply strode ahead. As she closed the gap, I shifted slightly to the side and kicked my leg beneath me, using it to launch into a corkscrew jump just as she shot past beneath me. Reacting instantly, she twisted mid-motion, planted her feet firmly, and pushed off with even greater force, charging straight at me with a flap of her well-muscled wings.

Bracing myself, I crouched low and caught her spear as she closed in, my other hand pressing against her stomach. Using her momentum against her, I flipped her clean over me. She landed just shy of the ring’s perimeter. Wasting no time, I rushed forward and leapt, planting both feet against her chest and kicking out, sending her tumbling out of bounds.

Standing to my feet, I looked down at her from the platform and crouched, resting my forearms against my knees as murmurs spread among the surrounding Guards.

"Guess that means I win," I said, watching as she stood, her expression sour.

"A ring-out is a dishonourable way to win, don’t you think?" she muttered.

I raised an eyebrow, grinning. "So is getting stabbed in the back," I shot back. "But the objective was to win, so don’t start whining about losing. It’s not a good look," She glanced downward at my remark. "Doesn’t matter if you win by an inch or a mile—a victory is a victory," With that, I straightened up and made my way toward the arena’s proper exit.

"Certainly an interesting perspective."

I halted, turning toward the source of the voice—and was more than a little surprised by what I saw. Or rather, by who I saw.

"Well, well, look what we have here," I said, my usual smirk returning. "Captain Shining Armor, Captain Spitfire, Lieutenant Fleetfoot, Lieutenant Soarin, and someone I don’t recognize. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this was planned," I cast a glance at Blossom, but she remained silent. "So, what can I do for you?"

Shining Armor stood clad in thick, heavy silver plate armour, its design reminiscent of Roman craftsmanship but with sharper, angular features. Purple accents decorated the plating in a symmetrical and aesthetically pleasing pattern. The helmet tucked under his arm bore the same intricate design, featuring a thick purple plume atop and a formidable faceplate. I had to admit—it looked pretty badass. His signature blue mane was as it always was, with a white horn protruding from his forehead.

Spitfire, Fleetfoot, and Soarin wore modified flight suits. The colour scheme matched their usual attire, but additional padding reinforced their arms and knees, and lightweight armour covered their torsos, shoulders, forearms, hips, and shins. The thickest plating, however, protected their backs—likely balancing defence with maximum manoeuvrability. Spitfire’s fiery hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, while Fleetfoot and Soarin’s hairstyles matched their appearances from the show.

The last Guard, however, was the one who truly caught my eye. She wore deep navy armour, similar in design to Shining Armor’s, complete with a matching helmet. But that wasn’t what held my attention. No, it was the pair of thick, leathery bat wings extending from her back and the striking yellow eyes that locked onto me. Her short, dark blue hair only added to her distinct appearance. It wasn’t hard to deduce—she was a Thestral.

Each of them carried unique weapons. Soarin wielded a heavy, mace-like club. Spitfire had a pair of short swords strapped to her sides. Fleetfoot carried a bow slung across her back, along with a pair of daggers at her waist. Shining Armor was armed with a shield and a longsword, while the mysterious Thestral held a sleek, well-crafted spear.

"The Sergeant is right. A ring-out doesn't count for much around here," Spitfire remarked, her tone matter-of-fact.

"Oh, so that's where she gets her outlook from? Well, thank you for solving that little mystery for me," I said, laying the sarcasm on thick. "If it doesn’t count, though, then why include it in the guidelines at all?"

A new voice cut in, stepping forward from the group. "I suppose... for people like you."

I turned my gaze to the newcomer. "And you might be...?"

"Lieutenant Midnight Blossom!" She declared.

"Oh, honey, there isn’t anyone like me," I said smoothly. "And you should be grateful for that fact."

Crouching down, I peered over the edge of the platform, taking in my surroundings before flicking my eyes back to them. "So…what exactly do the esteemed leaders of Equestria's military want with little ol' me?"

Shining Armor stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "We want what Sergeant Blossomforth had—a sparring match."

My brow lifted slightly. "Oh?" Now this could be interesting. Resting my elbow on my knee, I propped my chin against my fist. "Go on."

"One-on-one," Spitfire explained. "Same rules apply—except for ring-outs. This time, the fight continues until one yields or is incapacitated. And if one of us fails, another will take their place."

I let out a laugh, slapping my knee as I shook my head. The reaction was instant—most of the officers bristled, their irritation palpable. Spitfire and Shining Armor, however, remained unbothered, as if they had anticipated this response.

"What the hell’s so funny?!" Fleetfoot demanded.

Still grinning, I locked eyes with them. "You all threw a fit, calling me dishonourable when I won by a perfectly legal ring-out," I said, voice even. "And yet here you are, challenging a man fresh out of the hospital." I watched as their expressions began to shift, realization dawning. "No time to rest, no recovery, while the five of you get to step in fresh and ready?"

I stood slowly, my gaze sweeping over them as their earlier confidence wavered. "You talk about honour, but from where I'm standing, you're the ones lacking in that department."

Silence.

Shining Armor remained composed. "What do you propose?"

I crossed my arms. "All of you. Versus all of me."

"Five on one?!" Soarin balked. "Where's the honour in that?!"

"It's my honour and you called into question the second you made this challenge," I shot back, whipping my head toward him. "If you don’t like my terms, then I don’t fight. Simple as that."

The air grew tense, thick with unspoken words.

"Besides," I added, my expression hardened. "I'm the one suggesting this, not you."

Another pause. Irritation flickered across most of their faces, but Shining and Spitfire? They studied me, their expressions unreadable. Calculating.

I waited, but when no one responded, I let out a quiet sigh. Turning on my heel, I started walking away. "Can’t say I’m surprised."

"We’ll do it," Spitfire declared.

A ripple of shock spread through the Guards. Even the ones who had challenged me gawked at their leader, stunned that she would accept.

I exhaled quietly through my nose before turning back around, meeting Shining Armor’s gaze as he secured his helmet. His face was mostly obscured now—except for his eyes.

"Go on," I prompted.

"We accept your terms," Spitfire confirmed. "However, to make it fairer, I suggest we move to a more open area."

"Fair enough," I said with a shrug. Without hesitation, I leapt down from the platform, landing lightly in front of them. Three of them still looked unsure, but that wasn’t my problem.

I gestured forward. "Lead the way."

Nodding in acknowledgement, Spitfire led us past the platform and beyond the usual training grounds. After about a minute, we arrived at a spacious area, seemingly just on the outskirts of the training grounds. It looked to be a stadium of sorts, not dissimilar to what you'd find in Greece, even having a few support columns, though they seemed to be old and redundant. Nodding to myself, it seemed like the perfect place for our little bout. Stepping ahead of them and out just a little further into the more open area, I turned around to see them lining up, their expressions set with determination as Guards stopped roughly ten metres away.

"Anything else you'd like to add before we begin?"

"We don't plan on holding back," Shining Armor declared, his tone firm.

Rolling my shoulders, I took a deep breath and did a few stretches, ensuring I was loose enough for what was to come. Bouncing lightly on my feet, I steadied myself before locking eyes with my opponents.

Midnight, fastening her helmet, narrowed her gaze at me. It didn’t take long for the others to notice my distinct lack of weaponry.

"What are you doing?" She asked, a hint of confusion laced in her voice.

I met her gaze with a flat stare. "What does it look like I'm doing?" I deadpanned. "I'm holding back."

Without further warning, they charged at me in unison. Planting my feet firmly, I braced myself. Midnight reached me first, her spear slicing through the air with a rapid succession of thrusts and jabs. Timing my movement, I caught the weapon mid-lunge and pushed it into the ground before slamming my foot near the top, snapping the spearhead clean off. Her eyes widened in shock.

Before I could relish the moment, a blur caught my attention—a glint of steel whistling toward me. Reacting instinctively, I twisted my upper body just enough to snatch the arrow out of the air. Across the field, Fleetfoot stared in disbelief.

Soarin wasted no time, closing in with heavy yet controlled swings of his mace. Meanwhile, Fleetfoot unleashed another volley of arrows as see flew nearby, each one aimed with pinpoint accuracy. It was clear that Soarin trusted her implicitly, moving in sync with her attacks.

But being the devious gremlin I am, I decided to use that trust against them.

As Soarin’s mace came crashing down, I ducked beneath the arc and, in the same motion, drove the arrow into his thigh—carefully avoiding anything vital. He let out a pained growl, his grip faltering. Seizing the opportunity, I grabbed the mace's head and snatched the mace from his grasp. With a sharp pivot, I swung my fist into his stomach, using the mace's heavy head to send him sprawling onto his back. Clutching his stomach, he didn't get back up.

Fleetfoot had repositioned behind me, her bow already drawn. Without hesitation, I hurled the mace toward her. With no time to duck out of the way, she reacted swiftly, raising her weapon to block, but the sheer force knocked her to the ground and shattered the wooden frame in half. Tossing aside the broken remains, she quickly unsheathed her daggers, her eyes burning with renewed determination.

A moment of stillness settled over the battlefield.

Then, as if on cue, all of them rushed me at once.

Spitfire divebombed toward me at an incredible speed with a flap of her comparatively sleeker wings, while Shining Armor charged head-on with his shield raised. As she streaked past, I vaulted over her, but the manoeuvre left me wide open. Seizing the opportunity, Shining rammed me with his shield, now crackling with violet energy. The impact sent a shockwave through my body, blasting me backwards.

Before I could fully regain my footing, Midnight leapt over Shining, seamlessly continuing the assault. Their teamwork was impressive—coordinated, and relentless. It was clear they'd been training together for quite some time.

Midnight swung at me with her makeshift staff, attempting to catch me off guard. I raised my arm and blocked her overhead strike. The moment her weapon met my forearm, it snapped in two, leaving her vulnerable. Without hesitation, I drove my knee into her stomach. She gasped as the air was forced from her lungs, doubling over in pain.

I wasn’t done. Grabbing what was left of her broken staff, I swept her legs out from under her, then followed up with another kick to her midsection, sending her tumbling across the ground. A harsh gagging sound caught my attention—I turned just in time to see her vomiting as a few of the nearby guards rushed over to help her up.

"And there goes the third musketeer," I muttered, dusting myself off.

Shining and Spitfire narrowed their eyes at me, their stances shifting, more calculated now. Shining tapped the flat of his blade against his shield, a loud, wordless signal. Two of the remaining three fighters launched at me in unison, each wielding twin weapons—Spitfire with two swords, Fleetfoot with two daggers.

A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips as I dodged their flurry of strikes, weaving between them with ease. Timing my next move, I caught Spitfire’s wrist mid-swing, redirecting her momentum in an attempt to drive her blade straight into Fleetfoots shoulder. Before the strike could land, a shield blocked its path.

Shining Armor.

Despite the majority of his face being obscured, I could tell he was grinning at me, but I simply smiled back. The smirk on his eyes quickly faded.

Gripping Spitfire by the wrist, I spun her around with force, slamming her into Fleetfoot and sending them both crashing into Shining. The impact staggered all three of them.

Perfect.

Spotting Fleetfoot sprawled on the ground, I took a step toward her. She looked up at me, her expression shifting from pain to worry. Desperation flickered in her eyes as she lashed out, swinging one of her daggers at me. I deflected the strike with a quick punch to her wrist, knocking the weapon from her grasp. Gritting her teeth, she swung the second blade. I caught her wrist and twisted, forcing her to drop it.

With a firm grip, I yanked her around and locked my arm around her throat. She struggled, thrashing against my hold, but I didn’t waver and remained unbothered as her wings slapped against me. Her movements slowed, her breath grew shallow, and within moments, her body went limp.

As she lost consciousness, I lifted my gaze to find both Shining Armor and Spitfire back on their feet. Their eyes flicked between me and Fleetfoot, who now lay motionless at my feet. I let my expression go blank as I released my grip, allowing her to slump to the ground like a discarded ragdoll.

Lifting my arms slightly to the side, I tilted my head.

"Is this all?"

Silence.

A slow smirk returned to my lips as I began to pace, glancing between my final two opponents.

"And then there were two—the dynamic duo," I mused. My voice was calm, deliberate. "You know, there was a reason I forced Blossom out of the arena…so she wouldn’t get hurt."

Both of them studied me carefully, far more cautious than before. With a sigh, I retook my stance. As bizarre and absurdly convenient as it was to have knowledge I’d never possessed before suddenly beamed into my mind, I couldn't deny its usefulness.

They were both within range now, but a thin, shimmering purple shield encased them. I glanced at Shining and saw his horn glowing. A defence against my physical attacks, no doubt, allowing them to prolong the fight.

Without hesitation, Spitfire launched at me beside Shining, their movements precise and coordinated. It was obvious these two had trained together for quite some time. Shining swung his sword, and I ducked under it, only to be met with his shield slamming into me once more. Unlike before, there was no explosion—but this time, I was ready.

Grabbing hold of his shield, I wrenched it from his grip as I leapt, kicking him squarely in the gut. He staggered and slipped into his back, but before I could capitalize, the shield’s surface pulsed—then exploded. The force sent me hurtling backwards several meters.

Skidding to a stop, I winced, quickly piecing together what had happened.

"Wow," I admitted, shaking off the impact. "Nicely done. Clever." My gaze locked onto Shining as he struggled to regain his footing. "But clever won’t beat me."

Still reeling from my attack, he barely had time to react before I rushed for the discarded shield and hurled it like a frisbee at Spitfire, forcing her back just long enough for me to close the distance. Without hesitation, I drove my fist into his face. The force sent us both flying—he crashed into the gathered guards behind him while I collided with a stone pillar nearby.

A sharp groan escaped me as I peeled myself from the indent my body had left, landing with a solid thud. My eyes flicked back to Shining Armor—he swayed as he attempted to push himself to his feet, his body desperately clinging to consciousness before he finally slumped forward. The faint purple aura surrounding both him and Spitfire flickered, then shattered like glass.

"Then there was one," I murmured, cracking my neck. My gaze drifted to Spitfire, who remained standing.

"You know…" I mused aloud, tilting my head. "As fun as this has been, I can think of a hundred other things I’d rather be doing right now."

A slow smirk tugged at my lips as a thought struck me.

"I wonder," I said, my voice carrying through the stunned silence of the onlookers, "What it would be like to fight the Princesses?"

All eyes locked onto me, disbelief plastered across their faces.

"They're clearly powerful," I continued, my tone thoughtful. "But just how powerful? What would it look like to see them truly let loose?" My voice dropped into something almost wistful. "Now that would be a sight to behold."

I let the moment hang before sighing.

"Ah well, one can only wonder." I shrugged. "Let's get this over with."

Spitfire crouched, taking a stance I hadn’t seen before. A subtle hum filled the air as her twin blades began to glow. My interest piqued. Then, she moved.

She struck fast, her blade slicing through the space just above my face. I leaned back, barely dodging, and felt the heat radiating from the weapon as it passed. So Pegasi can wield magic? Interesting. Tucking that nugget for later.

She swung again, but this time, I dodged inward, slipping past her guard. Wide open.

I drove my fist into her stomach. The breath left her in a choked gasp, and one of her swords clattered to the ground as she instinctively clutched her abdomen, dropping to one knee. Even then, she wasn’t done.

Through sheer will, she lashed out with her remaining sword, aiming for my chest. I caught the blade mid-strike, stopping it cold.

Spitfire’s eyes widened in shock.

She let go.

Bringing the weapon up, I studied it as the glow faded, its heat quickly dissipating. I hummed in quiet contemplation before tossing the sword aside. My gaze returned to Spitfire. She was struggling to rise, but I allowed her the chance.

"Submit," I said softly.

She looked up at me like I was insane.

"Never."

I sighed, hanging my head slightly as I stepped forward.

As she threw her fist forward, I deflected it with the back of my hand, knocking her strike off course and throwing her balance off. Seizing the opportunity, I drove my fist into her chest, forcing her to stumble back. Gritting her teeth, she retaliated with a quick jab of her blade, but I redirected it with ease, following up with a powerful strike to her back that sent her reeling.

"Submit," I ordered.

"Never!" she spat.

What followed could only be described as an all-out, Thanos vs Hulk-level beatdown. The moment I landed that first clean hit, the fight was as good as over.

I overwhelmed her in an instant, chaining together a relentless barrage of blows, each one backed by my superior strength and speed. Every attempt she made to regain footing was shut down by well-placed counters, swift blocks, and the occasional feint to keep her off balance. My punches slammed into her stomach and chest, quick jabs finding their mark on her head. She barely had time to react—let alone fight back—before she was sprawled out on the floor, groaning in pain. The fight had lasted no more than thirty seconds, yet it had left the gathered Guards speechless, their disbelief hanging thick in the air.

"By Helis," A Guard murmured.

"First this Durin guy, now Helis? How changed is this version of Equestria? I need to brush up on my history and soon" I thought to myself.

"What the hell is everyone standing around for? Get them medical attention! For fuck’s sake!" My barked command jolted them out of their stupor. Some rushed off to fetch medics, while others hurried to move the downed fighters into more comfortable positions.

As I walked back to the training ground proper, I made my way through the gym and stepped towards the doors Blossom and I had entered through and I felt several pairs of eyes burning into my back. A quick glance around led my gaze to a pane of black glass. One-way mirror or enchanted bullshit? Whatever it was, I could tell that was where the stares were coming from. Though my curiosity was momentarily piqued, my anger and irritation were weighed against it. Without hesitation, I offered an exaggerated, mocking bow before raising my fist and slapping the inner nook of my arm in a blatant 'up yours' gesture. Satisfied, I walked off.

Leaving through the gym left a foul taste in my mouth and an even fouler mood in its wake. I hadn’t gotten far before I heard footsteps approaching from behind—a single pair. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice edged with irritation.

"I was instructed to be your escort, sir," Same Blossomforth’s voice as she stepped up beside me.

I barely spared her a glance. "Yeah? Well, tell whoever gave you that order to shove it."

She recoiled slightly, looking at me as if I had just insulted her entire bloodline. Before she could respond, another voice cut through the air.

"Even if it was me?"

I came to an abrupt halt and spun around, my eyes locking onto Celestia, flanked by Luna, Spike, and the Main Six. My expression hardened.

"Especially you," I shot back, pointing directly at the Solar Princess.

Gasps rang out from the group, their shock palpable.

"Excuse me?" She asked, her tone carrying a mix of surprise and warning.

"I know damn well that you orchestrated this entire setup!" I accused.

Celestia didn’t even blink. "I did. But I fail to see the problem."

I scoffed, running a hand down my face in exasperation. "You fail to—wow," I muttered before turning on my heel and storming off. I didn’t make it more than a few steps before I felt a hand grip my shoulder.

Reacting on instinct, I spun around, my finger stopping just shy of Celestia’s face. "Don’t. Touch me."

Her expression softened slightly. "Percival, I'm going to need you to calm down."

"And I’m going to need you to take this little scheme of yours and shove it where even your sun don’t shine," I fired back. The group collectively gasped—except for Luna, who merely looked on as if she had expected this very response.

Celestia opened her mouth to reply, but I didn’t give her the chance.

"You wanna know what the best part of today has been?" I asked.

She remained silent, but the curiosity in her eyes told me she wanted an answer.

I gave it to her.

"Waking up!" I shouted. "And let me tell you—that’s it."

"Instead of anyone greeting me or even bothering to fill me in on what had happened over the last few days since I was out, I was left to wander the halls aimlessly until word of my recovery reached you. And what was your response? You sent her—" I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder at a sheepish Blossom, "—to challenge me to a duel you knew damn well she had no chance of winning. And not just that. You then send your top military Officers after me, only this time, I couldn't simply ring them out—I was forced to hurt them! People I had just met, people I don't even know!"

Heat coursed through my body as my anger surged. "Det är inte så att jag räddat en hel jäkla by och försatt mig själv i allvarlig fara, men jag kan förstå att jag vill testa mig själv direkt från sjukhuset efter att ha kämpat mot BOKSTAVLIGA DEMONER!"

Yeah, if I get pissed off enough, I tend to slip into Swedish without thinking about it. It’s something I was taught from a young age, and it’s been ingrained in me ever since. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, you know I’m not in the mood for nonsense. And right now? This was definitely one of those times.

"Det är inte så att jag bokstavligen bara är borta från sjukhuset eller något och skulle älska en rundtur i slottet, men nej, du har planer!" I continued, wiggling a finger in her face before exhaling sharply, forcing myself to switch back to English. "Next time, how about you show some basic decency and invite me to lunch first?" With that, I turned on my heel and strode away, leaving behind a stunned audience.

"You misread my intentions."

"Honestly, Princess?" I snapped, whirling back around. "I couldn't care less what your intentions were. Not only did you keep me completely in the dark, but you also put your own Guards at risk. Yes, their job is to protect you, but that protection goes both ways."

"Percival!" Twilight interjected, her voice sharp with reprimand. "That is the Princess you're speaking to—you would do well to show her some respect!"

"She had it!" I shot back. "Until a few moments ago."

Luna stepped forward then, her voice level. "What of us?"

"Did you have a hand in this little setup?" I asked, my gaze narrowing.

"No, but I was aware of it," she admitted. There was something in her tone—something that told me she hadn't been particularly pleased about it.

"Then you have nothing to worry about," I assured her.

Without another word, I turned and left, catching the faintest glimpse of Celestia smiling in my peripheral vision while the rest of the group remained frozen in shock. As expected, Blossomforth trailed close behind.

As we walked in silence, my stomach let out an impressively loud growl, drawing a glance from my self-appointed escort.

"If you're hungry, sir, I can escort you to the dining hall?" she offered.

"I don't need to—" I began, but then sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose as I acknowledged the truth: I could use the distraction. "You know what? Yeah. That would be massively appreciated."

"Then follow me, sir!"

"Can we drop the ‘sir’ crap?" I muttered, feeling the last of my frustration begin to ebb away. "Makes me feel old. Just Percival is fine."

She smiled. "Alright, Percival. Follow me."

Author's Note

Not much to say here, just hoped you guys enjoyed this one, fight scenes aren't my forte but I'm trying to get better

Please point out any mistakes I may have made
Constructive criticism is always appreciated
Until next time, TTFN!