If I were in anyone else’s position, I would learn as much as possible about my opponent. In the weeks between my first fight and the start of the second, I did just that. I only learned that my opponent was just as dumb as the one before. He probably thought it was just a fluke that I won my first match, and he was too good to have that happen to him.

I went to the arena to watch my opponent as he practiced. I wanted to learn all his skills, moves, and any tells he might have, which would give me an advantage on the day we fought. When it was my turn to train, he didn’t even stay to watch. It wasn’t as if I was going to show him anything he could use against me, but he didn’t know that was my plan. An intelligent person would have stayed and tried and get a basic understanding of their opponent’s capabilities, but he failed to do that.

I thought people would be more intelligent about how easily the tide can change in battle. That they would use different skills or tactics to ensure success. We were in a military camp run primarily by military members, and we always had classes on the stuff. However, tactics and intelligence didn’t seem to be the case, at least with concern to me.

My opponent for the next fight was on the same squad as Jace, the de facto cadet leader of the Welders, squad leader for Team One and a colossal prick. But, when I was told about the match, my opponent didn’t have enough of a reputation for me to recall who he was. When I asked Sarah, she didn’t know either. It was Kimmy, a younger Carpenter who was great with manipulating the vegetables, who spoke up from the other side of the table. She pointed to him while sitting at the same table as Jace.

“He’s an asshole,” she said.

Apparently, his reputation was bad enough for her to know who he was. I questioned her about it, but she didn’t say much more. Something definitely didn’t seem right because we were supposed to have minimal contact with the Welders. I knew not all of them were jerks, but for her to sound so sure of how he was didn’t sit right with me. It seemed that Sarah felt the same way because as Kimmy returned to her food, Sarah continued to look at her. Whatever it was, Sarah would take care of it, so I didn’t have to worry.

Kenneth was tall for his age; I think he was about sixteen. He was slender, but we all were in the camp. Even with the kids who were in the elite Team One, food wasn’t something that was splurged on. From his training, I could tell he was better than the kid I fought the first time, but he would have to be if he was in Jace’s group. However, even being faster, stronger and having better form than my last opponent, the tactics I saw him use were precisely the same.

He would run over to the pile of random pieces of metal, make armor out of it and then fabricate a lance or sword. If I hadn’t seen every Welder do the same thing, I would think he was trying to do what I did and show off a bunch of moves that I didn’t plan on using.

Whether he had that plan or not, he went through the motion of applying the armor, making a lance, and then practicing various swings and thrusts with the weapon. He was quicker at manipulating the metal than others, but he wasn’t any better at making it worthwhile. Even without using my power, I could see major weak points in his armor. It wasn’t any fault of his own, well, mostly not his own. His flaws were the same as every other person I watched. I could give them some pointers, but that would help the competition.

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When I decided that I was going to sign up for the arena, I looked through a couple of books on medieval armor at the library. If one Welder bothered to look at it, they could see where they made mistakes. Kenneth's armor didn’t even cover his neck. I could see his pale white skin clearly in the cracks everywhere.

Whoever was the first to try it was most likely just thinking about maneuverability. Ken's lance would make the fight a little more complicated than the last; perhaps not more difficult, but definitely different. His reach and speed would force me to change tactics with him. He was also significantly quicker at forming the metal than my last opponent, making the fight more complex.

Not for the first time, I thought about how odd it was that I went from fighting the lowest-ranking metal type to a match with one of the elite group members. Kenneth did a bunch of thrusts with his lance, and I must admit that it would be pretty impressive if I was on a horse. I didn’t know what he was thinking.

Did he think I would just stand there and let him hit me?

He had to have some other trick up his sleeve. I didn’t stand still in the first fight, and there was no way he would expect that in the second. However, I did second guess my deduction and his intelligence when his final thrust was pointed in my direction. Especially when he took his mask off to stare at me menacingly.

It really just looked like he had to poop. I stared at him, my face blank, then he stormed out of the arena. I figured he would stick around and watch what I did so he could find out my skills, but after he left, he didn’t come back. I moved my own pile of practice material into the arena to use, which I built next to the mass of metal. The metal never gets moved because I am the only Carpenter who trains here.

Even though Kenneth never came back to watch me train, I decided to go through the motions anyway, just in case someone else was watching. I had about an hour, and although everything I was showing was fake, I didn’t want it to look like I was displaying everything. I decided to warm up first. I started with some light calisthenics to get my blood flowing, then moved into some pre-stretching.

I always liked to limber up a little before I did anything strenuous. The sergeants taught us this, and it worked for me. After warming up and stretching, I did some push-ups, crunches and squats. I didn’t really care for exercise before I signed up for the arena, but I learned to like it since there was a functional reason for it.

I took my time walking over to the pile of wood. I still didn’t see any signs of Kenneth, but there were a few cadets in the gym. Most of them were there before I started, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t give Kenneth any information on me.

I grabbed a few pieces of wood and started fusing them together. I did it slowly, so no one really knew my actual speed. I made it into a staff like I did last time and practiced swinging it around a bit. Even if the training was for show, I still liked being able to use it properly.

After I was done with the staff, I practiced doing a few more simple things with the wood. I broke it apart and reshaped it into a few different things, but all for show. Finally, I made it seem like I was exhausted from altering the wood many times.

I took extra long to do the last few shapes. Afterward, I paused to dramatically breathe hard. That way, I seemed like I didn’t have a lot of stamina, and they believed it was a fluke that I had won.

As I put the pieces of wood away, I dragged my feet and made it look like I was struggling to hold them. Then, I walked off slowly out of the gym. My performance should have fooled anyone watching, and I hoped the information would make it back to Kenneth, so he underestimated me.

As I was stretching and letting my body cool down, I focused on my plan, goals, and how I would win my next fight.