His swordsmanship compared to the average no-name town guard was impressive and blisteringly quick. However, compared to Elizabeth's own swordsmanship it was quite geriatric in comparison. The only reason the idea to start parrying the blade even came into Tibaut's head was because of how easily he was seeing the strikes.

Ezekiel got up and nonchalantly continued his attack. Yet Tibaut stood there embracing the attack, not moving a single inch. Ezekiel kept swinging and swinging but the only thing that greeted his blade was the air. However, it would not be an easy win for Tibaut as parrying the blade no longer was affecting his opponent's balance.

With every parry, he looked for an opening yet saw nothing. Nothing there. Or there. Until finally he was able to strike. It was a good hit but it was by no means going to end the fight. However, when he looked at his arms he truly started to wonder if his victory was even possible.

His arms were absolutely plastered in bruises. Every time he parried the blade, in the few moments his skin touched the cold steel it would cause bruising on his. He imagined if the fraction between blade and skin were any higher it would literally rip off his skin.

He wondered why he was fighting so hard against this person he didn't even know. He already put on a good enough show for the audience, surely this would get any young boy amped to be an adventurer. He was fighting an opponent who ate the few hits he gave him like candy and based on how hard he swung his blade could probably K.O. in one hit.

So why did he keep going? Simple. He was having fun. The thrill of fighting an opponent with everything he mustered with having to worry about dying wasn't something he had done in years.

Eventually, he was getting used to the movements of Ezekiel and starting to see more and more openings. He started to get more and more hits in on him until finally, he got the motherload of all openings. His chin was unprotected and just looked like it was begging for an uppercut. That's exactly what he delivered.

At least, he thought so, but something was off. Even though he threw an uppercut he felt no recoil. He quickly looked in front of him and realised why. He missed. He just barely missed. Less than a centimetre of space between his fist and his opponent's chin.

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His opponent was already mid-swing. ("There was nothing he could do,") he hoped his opponent thought. While it may have seemed like he gave up on using magic, he was close enough to his unmoving opponent that he had enough time to create a fireball behind him. "Sorry about this, pal." He thought before sending the prepared fireball at his opponent's back. However, just like that it seemed as though his opponent was pulled by an unknown force to the right.

"Wha-" Tibaut said confused before being blasted by his own fireball. Fortunately, he was able to lessen the blast of the blow from his own magic. The pain in his body was nothing compared to how confused his mind was.

"How did he do that? I thought he could only move me?" He thought, confused. Eventually, he started to realise something. "Wait a minute, if he can do that, then that means, this bastard!" Tibaut had realised if he was capable of moving himself without physically moving then those misses from earlier would be explained.

Yes all he did was move himself a short enough distance to avoid the attacks. While Tibaut was mad at this discovery in his mind the only way to counter this ability was to do what he was doing earlier.

While he did miss a punch earlier it was only due to getting an obvious opening. If that opening was a feint, then that meant he needed to know when punches were coming to use his weird ability. "Well, this is nothing more than a theory at the moment, so I better test it." He said while running towards Ezekiel.

Ezekiel started back his onslaught while Tibaut got to parrying. He was starting to get hits in again until it came. An opening then showed. And he did nothing. In fact neither did his opponent. His opponent started scratching his head. "Ah man, did you already figure it out?" The man asked Tibaut.

While Tibaut did not answer, his eyes gave it away. "Alright tell you what kid, let's have the next blow decide, I'm kinda getting tired swatting my sword." The man said as if trying to sound as disinterested as possible. The man then took a few paces back and readied his sword with only one of his hands instead of the usual two.

Tibaut didn't know what to think of the current predicament and knew had to be careful due to the man's weird ability and he decided to summon all the fire lances he could muster. Then a deafening silence engulfed the pit they were in.

He wasn't sure how long they were both staring at each other but he was sure it was for too damn long. Finally, a lone bird flying overhead decided to break the silence and they rushed each other. However, almost immediately Tiabut jumped into the air and launched his lances at Ezekiel.

To Tibaut's amazement, he had hit Ezekiel. A smile appeared briefly on Tibaut's face before he realised he was feeling an odd pain in his thigh. He looked to see what was bothering his thigh. It was a knife. "When did that-'' he thought to himself before realising one thing.

He lost.