The three maids stood close together, only a few steps apart, forming a defensive triangle.

Edward maintained his distance, his sharp eyes darting between them, calculating his next move.

Though they appeared motionless, the tension was palpable.

Each combatant remained poised, their muscles coiled, waiting for the inevitable spark to ignite the clash.

Edward moved first, his body a blur as he leapt forward, his fist aimed directly at Cecilia on the far left.

His target was clear.

Cecilia reacted instantly, her instincts honed.

She sidestepped the attack, her movement fluid and precise, evading his punch with ease.

At the same time, her rope snapped forward, the hook at its end slicing through the air toward Edward's face.

Edward twisted sharply, the hook barely grazing past him.

His focus shifted, aware of the subtle shift behind him—Bridget was already closing the gap, her powerful fist arcing toward his back.

He ducked under her strike with inches to spare, the force of her punch whistling past his ear.

Using the momentum of the dodge, Edward spun toward Felicity, who stood on the right.

Felicity, already braced for his attack, shifted into a defensive stance.

She knew better than to meet him head-on.

Her quick footwork became her shield, weaving and sidestepping Edward's relentless assault.

His punches and kicks were sharp and precise, but Felicity danced out of reach, forcing him to advance further.

Each swing from Edward hit nothing but air, a blur of motion.

But just as he closed in, Cecilia's rope struck again, its hook flying with blistering speed toward his head.

This time, Edward intercepted it mid-air with the back of his hand.

The impact was like a blunt bullet, jolting his arm with a sharp sting.

Before he could react further, Cecilia retracted the rope with expert timing, preparing for another strike.

Edward shifted his stance, his feint against Cecilia giving just enough time for Bridget and Felicity to switch places.

Now, Bridget stood before him.

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The dynamic shifted in an instant.

Edward moved to evade Bridget's heavy blows, her fists crashing toward him like a relentless storm.

Her punches came faster, tighter, and with unyielding force, leaving him no room to counter.

Meanwhile, Felicity circled, trying to find openings to land her strikes.

She darted in with calculated precision, each attempt a distraction, though none landed cleanly.

Edward leapt back, breaking the rhythm of the assault, and pivoted toward Cecilia again.

His sudden shift caught her momentarily off guard, forcing her to backpedal as Edward closed the distance.

The battle fell into a pattern—Edward attacking Cecilia, only to be intercepted by Bridget's overwhelming strength and Felicity's agile interference.

Each attempt to gain the upper hand was met with counterplay, forcing Edward to switch targets, adapt his tactics, and avoid the constant threat of Cecilia's rope.

The intensity of the exchange grew, each move countered, each feint tested.

Their movements blurred together, a whirlwind of precise attacks and evasive maneuvers.

Time slipped away unnoticed, consumed by the rhythm of the fight.

Minutes bled into each other as they pressed on, none willing to yield, each adjusting to the other's patterns.

It wasn't just a battle of strength; it was a test of endurance, strategy, and sheer willpower.

They couldn't tell how many minutes had passed, but it was clear they had been at this for quite some time.

Bridget no longer attacked relentlessly; instead, she focused on trying to grab, clearly conserving her energy.

Even Cecilia and Felicity, while not visibly exhausted, now breathed audibly.

Each blow was deliberate, their movements carefully regulated.

Still caught in the rhythmic exchange, Edward noticed the shift. This was what he had been waiting for.

Watching for an opening, Edward feinted, throwing his body into a motion that appeared like an evasive maneuver, aiming toward Felicity.

She hadn't anticipated it.

Their backs collided, and Edward seized the moment.

His fist drove into her right arm with a calculated, powerful punch.

The impact was unlike anything she had felt before—his previous blows, though strong, now seemed like gentle taps in comparison.

The sheer force made her drop her baton.

Before Edward could follow up with another attack, Bridget rammed into him with raw speed and power, sending him flying.

He crashed into a tree, the force of the impact leaving him stunned.

Cecilia leapt toward Felicity, assisting her without panic but with visible concern etched on her face.

Edward let out a low grunt of pain, leaning against the tree for support as he tried to stand.

His breath seemed momentarily stolen, his teary eyes glistening though no tears fell.

Felicity stood with Cecilia's support, her posture shaky but determined.

Bridget positioned herself in front of them like a shield, her fists clenched tightly, pounding them together rhythmically.

Her expression was far from amused.

"Ed-boy, don't tell me you're really out here punching girls in the face?"

Her voice dripped with playful menace.

Edward finally caught his breath, the initial pain ebbing as he straightened up.

"Not intending to," he rasped, his tone still strained but laced with defiance.

"It just so happens that a pretty face was right in my punch line."

Felicity let out a weak chuckle despite the ache in her arm.

"So... he thinks my face is pretty," she muttered, smiling faintly through the pain.

Bridget wasn't amused.

"Your Lady would be devastated if she heard about this."

Her smile turned sharp, almost threatening.

Edward steadied himself further, brushing off her words with a cracked but confident retort.

"Not if you..."

Suddenly, a faint orchestral melody rose from the auditorium, its hauntingly delicate notes slicing through the tension like a knife.

Though distant, the sound carried a strange pull, as if tethered to an invisible thread.

Edward's sharp eyes caught the subtle shift in the maids' stances—the flicker of hesitation, the almost imperceptible twitch of their heads turning toward the music.

It was instinctive, synchronized, and unnerving, as though they were following a command only they could hear.

To the untrained eye, it might have seemed a harmless distraction.

To Edward, it was the break he needed.

He finished, his tone steady now.

"...don't tell my lady."

Before they could react, Edward leapt backward, disappearing into the surrounding area with practiced agility.

"He ran away!" Bridget exclaimed, her voice a mix of surprise and annoyance.

She had expected him to keep fighting, not flee.

"Felicity, guard the door! Cecilia, with me—we're going after him!" Bridget commanded, her voice sharp with determination.

"Yes," Cecilia replied succinctly.

Without wasting a moment, the two maids sprang into motion, chasing after Edward with swift, calculated leaps, leaving Felicity behind to watch the door.