Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
The entire hall seed to fall into a strange silence as hundreds of Sleepers watched the two lieutenants standing opposite each other in the center of the arena, neither showing any intention of making the first move despite the fact that everyone present knew the fight had already begun long before either weapon was raised.
Harus stood completely still beneath his dark cloak, the chained sickle hanging loosely from his hand while the heavy length of chain rested across the marble floor like a sleeping serpent waiting for the right mont to strike.
Across from him, Xeleray remained equally motionless, Durandal resting casually at his side while his tired black eyes remained fixed on his opponent with the quiet focus of soone calculating dozens of possibilities simultaneously.
Seconds passed.
Then more seconds passed.
The silence only grew heavier.
Sunny frowned.
Sothing felt strange.
The two n were not acting like fighters preparing for battle.
Neither appeared tense.
Neither appeared excited.
Neither looked particularly concerned about the outco.
If anything, they looked completely relaxed.
As though they were rely standing around having a conversation that nobody else could hear.
Then Sunny realized what was actually happening.
Neither Harus nor Xeleray was waiting.
They were asuring.
Every step.
Every angle.
Every possible attack.
Every possible response.
Every possible mistake.
Beside him, Elysia narrowed her eyes slightly as she watched the arena with unusual focus, her expression slowly losing the casual amusent she normally carried as she followed the tiny movents both lieutenants made.
A slight adjustnt of Harus's footing.
A subtle shift in Xeleray's grip.
A tiny movent of the chain.
The faint repositioning of Durandal's tip.
To most of the audience these things looked aningless.
To the two n standing in the arena, they were not.
Then suddenly—
Harus attacked.
There was no warning.
No dramatic declaration.
No burst of killing intent.
One mont he stood still and the next he was already moving, his body crossing half the arena with terrifying speed while the chained sickle shot forward toward Xeleray's throat in a blur of dark tal.
Gasps erupted throughout the hall.
Xeleray responded imdiately.
Not by retreating.
Not by blocking.
He simply shifted half a step to the side.
The sickle missed his neck by less than an inch.
At the sa ti Durandal moved.
The sword suddenly separated into multiple segnts connected by hidden links, transforming from a rigid blade into sothing far more flexible as it curved around Harus's attack and lashed toward his exposed flank.
Harus released the chain.
The whip-sword sliced through empty air.
By the ti the attack arrived he had already slipped inside Xeleray's range.
A fist shot forward.
Simple.
Direct.
Fast.
Xeleray twisted.
The punch missed.
Durandal instantly reford.
The blade stabbed toward Harus's throat.
Harus tilted his head.
The sword passed beside his face close enough to cut several strands of dark hair.
The crowd erupted.
Only three exchanges had occurred.
Three.
Yet everyone present could already tell that neither man was holding back.
There were no probing attacks.
No theatrical displays.
Every strike carried the clear intention of ending the fight imdiately.
Not killing.
Subduing.
The throat.
The jaw.
The ribs.
The joints.
Every target chosen with brutal efficiency.
Harus landed lightly before imdiately kicking off the ground again.
This ti the sickle flew upward toward the ceiling instead of toward Xeleray.
Several Sleepers frowned in confusion.
Then the chain suddenly tightened.
Harus used the tension to launch himself forward like a projectile.
The distance between them disappeared instantly.
His body seed less like a human and more like a weapon fired from a siege engine.
The sickle descended.
Xeleray raised Durandal.
Steel collided with steel.
A loud clang echoed throughout the hall.
The impact sent vibrations through the floor itself.
Before the sound had even faded Harus was already attacking again.
His elbow shot toward Xeleray's jaw.
Xeleray leaned backward.
The strike missed.
Durandal unfolded once more.
The segnted blade wrapped around Harus's guard and struck his shoulder.
A sharp crack echoed.
Several people gasped.
Harus did not even blink.
Instead the chain suddenly coiled around Xeleray's wrist.
The entire audience froze.
Harus pulled.
Violently.
Xeleray's balance shifted.
Only slightly.
But against fighters like these, slightly was enough.
The cloaked lieutenant stepped forward.
The sickle flashed.
Xeleray imdiately released Durandal.
The attack missed.
Several people stared in confusion.
Then Durandal suddenly moved again.
The sword had not fallen.
Instead it spun through the air before unfolding into its segnted form once more, curving around Harus from behind like a living creature seeking prey.
Sunny's eyes widened.
The attack ca from a blind angle.
Most Sleepers could barely follow what happened next.
The chain suddenly snapped around Harus's body.
The sickle collided with Durandal behind his back.
A shower of sparks erupted.
The segnted sword bounced away.
Xeleray caught it instantly.
Then attacked again.
And again.
And again.
Durandal extended.
Contracted.
Extended again.
Sotis it was a sword.
Sotis it was a whip.
Sotis it was sothing in between.
Its attack patterns constantly changed, making it nearly impossible to predict where the next strike would co from.
The arena gradually disappeared beneath a storm of flashing steel.
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
The sound of tal striking tal echoed continuously throughout the hall.
Most Sleepers could no longer follow the battle.
Their eyes saw movent.
Sparks.
Blurred silhouettes.
Nothing more.
Yet despite the speed and violence, neither lieutenant showed even the slightest emotion.
Harus remained completely silent.
Xeleray remained equally silent.
The two n fought with the cold focus of veteran predators who had survived too many battles to waste energy on unnecessary words.
Sunny slowly noticed sothing else.
Harus was retreating.
Not because he was losing.
Because he was learning.
Every swing of Durandal.
Every change in rhythm.
Every extension.
Every contraction.
Every pattern.
The cloaked lieutenant was studying all of it.
Beside him, Elysia realized the sa thing.
Her expression grew thoughtful.
"He is adapting."
Sunny nodded.
For several more exchanges Harus continued retreating while Xeleray relentlessly pushed forward, Durandal transforming the arena into a web of steel that seed capable of striking from every direction at once.
Then suddenly—
Harus stopped moving backward.
The change was tiny.
Almost invisible.
Yet every experienced fighter in the room imdiately felt it.
The atmosphere shifted.
The chain fell still.
The sickle lowered slightly.
Across the arena, Xeleray's tired eyes narrowed.
Durandal slowly folded back into its sword form.
Neither man moved.
Neither attacked.
Yet the tension inside the hall sohow beca even greater than before.
Because everyone understood the sa thing.
Harus had finally finished studying.
He had found sothing.
A weakness.
A pattern.
An opening.
And whatever happened next would be far more dangerous than everything that had happened so far.
_____________
A/N: dramaticism works wonders man
User Comments
0 comments from readers