Oma Ai Tahayasi was right. As soon as I entered the Arena territory, representatives of the Alchemists' Guild immediately approached me. They did so more subtly and tactfully than the local guards. First, a medic examined me and confirmed that I could participate in the final of the Bronze branch of the Tournament. As this inspection was going on, a young and attractive girl kept hanging around me, expressing shock upon "learning" that I had been attacked by robbers and innocently asking for details about the incident. If I hadn't seen that despite her youth, she was already at the Wootz rank, I might have even "fallen" for this performance. Then, before leading me to the preparation room, the lead steward's senior assistant chatted with me. His questions could easily be mistaken for simple curiosity and sympathy, but that was just a facade.

From what I gathered, the Alchemists' Guild's primary theory was that I had been attacked by Paravi Malik's fans. They tried to pry out of me whether the city guards had been complicit in this assault. I had to refute this theory several times, insisting that I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. And that the attackers weren't even city citizens, and "as it seemed to me," they were bankrupt caravan traders trying to improve their financial situation through plain robbery. This conversation didn't feel like an interrogation at all, more like a confidential talk. At the end of the chat, the lead steward's senior assistant lamented that I had a sleepless night before the final and offered the services of his Guild for recovery. I asked what he meant by that, and upon learning, I immediately agreed.

Not even ten minutes had passed after the conversation ended when a silent, gaunt, short man well over fifty entered my assigned room. His rank was the same as mine, Bronze. He was dressed in the traditional local orange robe and wore no shoes. Following his gestures, I stripped down to my underwear and lay on a hard wooden bench. The man, who hadn't introduced himself, stretched his hands, performed a short meditation, and then started working on me.

A professional massage is not the relaxing procedure many people on Earth are used to. In reality, it can be quite painful because tense muscles can't simply relax. They need to be stretched, pressed on, kneaded. That's what the specialist invited by the steward's assistant did for the first half hour. Having fully worked on my body and warmed it up, the master didn't stop there. Returning to his belongings, he unfolded a large towel, inside which were many acupuncture needles. Acupuncture, on the other hand, is not as painful as it seems from the outside. And when performed by a master, you can even fall asleep.

For another hour, I lay covered in needles, looking like a porcupine. The entire time, the master did not sit idle but maintained a Restoration Aura on me. He then removed the needles and proceeded to give another massage, this time a relaxing one. At the end of the session, he inspected me meticulously and, seemingly pleased with the result, nodded and quietly left the room. The masseur hadn't uttered a single word throughout this entire process. As soon as he left, the steward's assistant appeared in the doorway and inquired about my state. I assured him that I was feeling excellent, which was absolutely true after all the procedures.

"Did you request to see Aun Duan if he came by?" he asked.

"Yes, that's right," I confirmed.

"Are you sure this won't impede your recovery?"

"Certainly."

"Then I'll instruct for the visitor to be shown in."

"Thank you. And one more request."

"What would that be?"

"I will have a private conversation with Master Duan. Could you set up a 'Silence Canopy' over this room?" By 'you,' I was referring to the Guild, not this particular person.

"There's no need for that," the steward's assistant smiled, "You won't be disturbed or overheard, we'll see to it."

"Thank you."

"That's the least we can do to ensure the final fight goes off without a hitch." The alchemist shrugged and left upon hearing no further requests from me.

Not ten minutes later, Aun peeped into the room.

"Come in," I invited him, patting the bench next to me. "Sit. You look pale."

"No wonder the guards call this Tahayasi a 'viper'!" The boy grimaced. "She wrung my soul out until she was certain I remembered the official version of the night attack."

"Yeah, she's capable of that." I had no doubt that Oma Ai Tahayasi could "wring out the soul" of anyone.

"I've had to interact with her a number of times before, and she always seemed like a strict but compassionate lady," the lad shook his head, "I was so wrong!"

We could continue this conversation about nothing in particular, but I chose a different approach, turned to the boy, and asked:

"Do you really want to talk about this and not something else?"

"You mean..." The young man twitched as if slapped and fell silent.

"It's your life, and I won't interfere. If you don't want to discuss it, it's your choice." I shrugged.

"It could've just been a coincidence. Anyone could've hired the Quarti family!" His tone suggested he didn't quite believe in what he had just said.

I nodded at him, leaned back against the wall, and closed my eyes. The boy held his silence for about three minutes, then he couldn't hold back any longer:

"I'm not blind! Or stupid! I see the connection: the fabric merchants and Aunt Zian's fabric shop. I see... But I can't believe it! You just don't know how kind and hospitable Aunt Zian is! She's known me since I was in swaddling clothes."

Apparently, he was waiting for me to argue, but I remained silent. Another five minutes of silence passed, followed by a heavy sigh.

"But Alaya, her daughter, she loves more than anything." This time, the boy's tone sounded much drier and unemotional. "Not so long ago, I was a very promising groom. My father's business was prospering. Purchasing our own ship opened new horizons. And then everything changed. From the heir of a wealthy business, I suddenly found myself a bankrupt orphan, with nothing to my name but a house and a couple of hundred gold coins."

This time, I did not keep silent, and when a pause arose, I asked:

"Wouldn't it have been easier just to break off the engagement?"

"Easier?" The young man snorted. "Everyone knew about Alaya's and my engagement. If the engagement were broken off now, everyone would understand the reason for breaking the previous agreements."

"And?"

"In case of breaking off the engagement, everyone would start looking askance at Aunt Zian. And Alaya would be labeled as a 'jinxed bride,' and finding a new groom for her in Tries would become almost impossible, especially in our circle."

"Is it all that serious?"

"Aunt Zian and my father set up the engagement agreement under the patronage of Elai. So yes, it is serious. As you like to say, 'in addition to that,' Aunt Zian's business largely relies on everyone considering her very kind and compassionate, helpful to all. If she breaks off the engagement because the groom suddenly went bankrupt, especially under such tragic circumstances as mine, she will lose face. Everyone would turn away from her."

"And what would be the consequences if you broke off the engagement?"

"None. Everyone would understand that I do not want to be a burden to my beloved."

"A burden?" I didn't quite understand.

"In Tries, among the merchants, it is customary that when children are married, each side gives the newlyweds equal sums to start their own business. But as I'm bankrupt, as everyone believes, only Aunt Zian would give money, meaning Alaya would become the head of our family business. And my refusal of the engagement would be seen as not wanting to be a hen-pecked husband."

"And wouldn't it have been easier for Aunt Zian to talk to her daughter and ask her to discuss breaking off the engagement with you? Or would you not agree to do it if Alaya asked you?"

"Of course, I would agree!" The boy snorted indignantly.

"Then why didn't Aunt Zian take such a simple route?"

"Because Alaya would have refused such a request! We love each other!!"

An argument. Emotional, yet, an argument nonetheless.

"What do you mean by 'everyone believes you're bankrupt,' isn't that the case?" I pointed out the detail in his words that had caught my eye.

"I know what sums my father and Aunt Zian agreed upon." For the first time during our conversation, Aun smiled. "A couple more bets, and I'll have the necessary money on hand!"

"A couple of bets?" I asked, somewhat surprised.

"Yes, Master, you won't believe it, but there's likely to be good odds on you for today's final, two to three or something like that."

"You're joking?" I exclaimed in surprise.

"No, many of the guards will be betting on Paravi Malik, as, apparently, will other spectators."

"Are they fools?"

"They believe the girl is led by luck." Aun shrugged, then nodded and added with the intonation of Grandpa Wyuan, "Well... dumbasses!"

The crowd is often irrational, especially when it comes to their favorites, so Aun may be right.

"And the grand finale odds for you and the mask from the 'Rising Dragon' school are about the same, meaning you could double your five hundred coins!"

"And that will be enough for you?" I clarified.

"Yes! There will be another two and a half hundred left." The boy nodded confidently.

"You've become calmer."

"It's simple: you listened to me, I got it all off my chest, and now I know what to do next."

"And what is that?"

"I'm sure Aunt can't find new killers in a couple of days. Searching for such performers for those not involved in the city's shadow life is not as easy as it might seem."

"A couple of days?"

"That's enough for me. And then I'll talk to Aunt."

"And the conversation will solve everything?" Skepticism flashed across my face.

"A conversation backed up by a hefty sum in gold!" The young man corrected me. "It will solve everything!"

"And if it won't?"

"If it won't, I'll suggest breaking off the engagement myself!"

"But what about your love for Alaya?" I was slightly bewildered.

The young man hesitated, dropped his gaze to the floor, and said, not as confidently:

"I think, seeing such determination from me to make her daughter happy, Aunt Zian won't insist on breaking up. Especially after seeing the money, she'll realize that breaking up is no longer beneficial."

"And how will you live, knowing that your mother-in-law wanted to kill you?"

"Ha!" The boy smiled again, "If you believe the stories of adult men, almost all their mothers-in-law are ready to choke them if the opportunity arises!"

I had a lot of objections to this, but I remained silent. Ain will soon burn in demonic fire, so let someone in this world be happy for at least a year and a half.

"I only have one remark," When Aun snapped out of his thoughts and looked at me, I continued, "Not always what is visible is the truth. Yes, the fact that the assassin clan who hunted you traded in fabrics for cover-up is hard to call a simple coincidence. I agree. But you should weigh everything again and think about other possible options."

"I've already thought it through," the boy shook his head, "while I was cleaning the sweet shop's kitchen for several hours, I had time. It's not a coincidence. No. Firstly," he mimicked me, demonstratively bending a finger, "the first attempt on my life was on the same day I arrived in the city. I thought a lot and concluded that Aunt Zian, who often trades fabrics with these caravan merchants for her shop, must have somehow learned about their side job. So it turns out, for her to, as you say, 'order' me, she just had to get to the caravan market. This also explains why the attempt on my life was not postponed for a later time. The caravaners don't stay in towns for more than a couple of weeks, and soon they would have left Tries and might only return in six months or even a year - when the wedding would have already taken place! And since there's no Assassins' Guild in our city, finding new executors might not be possible at all. Perhaps Aunt decided on all this only because she already had 'suitable acquaintances.' Secondly, there was a note in Alaya's name asking to meet. Only she, I, and, as I now understand, Aunt Zian knew about our secret place. Because it's only children who think they can run away from all adults unnoticed. No stranger could know about our meeting place with Alaya," Aun finished his thought with a heavy sigh.

"Speaking of the note..." I left my sentence unfinished and gave the boy a meaningful look.

"Master," the boy slid from the bench to the floor and took a posture of maximum remorse, "I should not have run away from home secretly, without informing you."

"Stand up, I'm not your teacher, and such gestures are unnecessary from your side."

The main thing is that he, hopefully, understood how he was manipulated and would think twice before rushing off somewhere next time. I would be upset if this lad died as soon as I left Tries. I don't know why, but I would find such an outcome unpleasant. However, why don't I know? I do know. Despite the fact that this boy sometimes annoys me, I've grown fond of him over these days. But as soon as Aun opened his mouth again and started to detail the cleanup and interrogation in his typical verbose manner, I clearly understood that I wouldn't miss him that much. I tolerated his wordy outpouring for about twenty minutes, then yawned heartily and said tiredly:

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"There's about four or five hours left before the start of the tournament day, and I need to sleep. If you want, you can go home."

"No, Master, if you don't mind, I'll sit here, on a stool, and think."

"Put out the candles." Having said that, I lay down on the bench and turned my face to the wall.

I staged this scene for one reason only: to make the boy shut up. I didn't think I'd actually be able to fall asleep, but it seems that due to the massage and the acupuncture session, I ended up dozing off.

"Master." Aun nudged me awake. "The ceremonial part starts in half an hour. You are asked to wash, change clothes, and be ready."

"And where are you off to?" Having woken me up, the boy himself was already standing in the doorway.

"The bookmakers' tables will open soon. I'll get in line in advance."

Left alone, I washed and, as it was asked, changed into my tournament clothes. Then I sat back on the bench and sank into a light meditation, feeling my Core. Alas, my hopes for any significant Achievement as a result of this night were not fulfilled. I was only credited with killing two young Iron fighters, that's all, and it was a bit upsetting. Upsetting but fair, as I myself essentially did nothing; all the others were killed by Grandpa Wyuan.

After I got some sleep, what the old man did doesn't seem so unattainable and impressive anymore. Yes, the elimination of the assassin clan, as if it were a series of absurd coincidences, was executed brilliantly. That's all true. But now I understand that the mysterious old man didn't show almost anything extraordinary. High-level Air Magic is similar to telekinesis and explains most of the "coincidences," as well as why Aun and I remained safe and unharmed. Plus, a bit of Water Magic since the spilled oil lay right under the broken window too conveniently. A tiny bit of Fire to make sure the flour dust really exploded. That's about it. Although not entirely, of course, we must add the reaction of an experienced fighter, but there's definitely no mystery there. Essentially, I only didn't understand one thing: how did this old man plan everything so quickly? Or was there no plan, and he acted solely on reflexes and intuition honed over many years? It could well be the case. And if my fresh perspective is correct, Grandpa Wyuan drops out of my top ten strongest. On the other hand, wiping out all the assassins who broke into the sweet shop kitchen with such minimal force still scares me a bit.

Taking the tournament spear standing in the corner of the room into my hands, without moving from my spot, I spun a few "twirls," and the air obediently whistled, reluctantly giving way to the weapon.

"You're requested," a young servant peeked in and then immediately disappeared behind the door.

Glancing at my reflection in a water basin, I adjusted a falling lock of hair and left the preparation room with a brisk stride. I then followed the junior steward, who led me to a large hall where the other participants of today's duels had already gathered.

Paravi Malik demonstratively pretended not to notice me. The fighters of the Steel branch of the tournament also didn't care about me - they drilled each other with hostile looks. But Ronin, hiding his face under a ritual mask, even started moving towards me, only to be stopped by the steward, who asked him to take his place.

After the tournament, I wanted to visit the "Rising Dragon" school and have a good chat with the earthling, but in light of the "advice" from the ninth praetor, this conversation, apparently, won't happen. It's a shame, of course, but in the case of Ronin, my intervention isn't really required. The fencing master at this stage was busy with just what was needed: studying local fighting schools. It will take two or three months, when he will develop his own style, combining the advantages of approaches from both worlds and then he will need to be nudged towards creating a school of martial arts for earthlings. But for now, I just wanted to talk to him, of course, while giving him a few hints and turning his thoughts in the right direction. But even if our conversation still doesn't happen, it's not a big deal. Ronin is one of those whose head works properly, and in the end, he will come to the decision I need on his own.

I gestured to the earthling that I wouldn't mind meeting him in the lodge for participants after our finals, and he seemed to understand, nodding in agreement.

While we were "communicating" in this way, standing a good twenty meters apart, one of the stewards explained how this tournament day would unfold. As there were only three fights today, the organizers focused more on the show around the duels. First, the Alchemists' Guild auction, which was nearing its end as we were being instructed, then the presentation of all participants with a performance by bards, and only then the fights.

All the participants listened to this briefing half-heartedly, most preferring not to waste time and prepare for the upcoming duels. Some were warming up, some immersed themselves in light meditation. One of the rank-and-file stewards with a divining rod walked around all the participants and stopped next to me. The willow branch, specially treated with magic and rituals, swayed in his hands and confidently pointed at me. This was immediately noticed by one of the senior alchemists who approached.

"Participant Raven," he addressed me in a demanding tone, "external enhancements are prohibited by the rules. Do you want to be disqualified before the final?"

Since I didn't understand what he was talking about, my hand instinctively reached to scratch my head, and immediately my fingers stumbled upon the hairpin.

"My apologies," I said, extracting the artifact pin and handing it to the steward, "I only bought it yesterday and forgot about it."

Taking the artifact from me, the alchemist nodded to his assistant, and he, with the searching branch in his hands, circled around me. This time, the tool didn't point at me.

"Curious." Examining the hairpin, the alchemist tucked it into his belt pouch. "A very rare thing." His tone made it clear that he understood the true value of the pin. "The artifact will be returned to you after the duel."

With that, the incident that arose literally out of nowhere was resolved. And just in time, as the gates to the arena opened and the roar of the stands ushered us onto the sand. When it was my turn, the senior steward announced my name, and the applause I received from the audience was about a third quieter than what sounded during Paravi Malik's entrance. Once again, I realized that I needed to defeat this crowd favorite as respectfully as possible and, in no case, humiliate her in front of thousands of her fans.

After stepping onto the sand, I had to stand under the scorching rays of the morning sun in full view for almost half an hour, while also listening to the bard's performance dedicated to my journey to the finals. A talentless performance, by the way, which was even a bit offensive, as the harpist who had previously praised Paravi turned out to be a gifted composer, and his song was interesting to listen to. But the bard who sang about me was eventually booed and spat on by the audience. Deservedly. I barely restrained myself from booing this talentless performer. The announcement of the start of the fights was met with enormous relief. I wonder why it works this way: the talentless bard embarrassed himself, but am I the one feeling ashamed?

I missed Ronin's duel because the stewards, right after the ceremonial part, immediately had me in their hands and checked again, more thoroughly this time, for hidden artifacts. I even had to summon the Light and confirm that I had nothing. Fortunately, none of them asked about Inscribed Spells, so I didn't have to make something up. In the end, they, of course, admitted me to the fights and even apologized for such a scrupulous examination. It seemed to me that the alchemists were looking less for artifacts or any buffs and more for signs of mental influence, but to my relief, they didn't find any.

I found out that Ronin had won only by hearing the announcement from the senior steward and the characteristic roar of the stands. The fencing master's artistry and theatrical approach to duels had won the hearts of many spectators, and his victories were met with quite a stir.

As was customary for this tournament, Paravi and I entered the sand simultaneously, appearing on opposite sides of the arena. Sticking to my usual approach, I calmly walked to the center and took my place there. I stood like that for a couple of seconds, then twirled the spear with such speed that the roar of the air could be heard in the stands, and, with a characteristic gesture, beckoned the girl to me.

Despite the fact that I still believed that Paravi Malik had jumped significantly above her abilities, reaching the final of the Bronze grid of the Tournament, I understood how she did it. So I wasn't expecting any surprises like the one that happened in the semifinals. The local crowd's favorite was a master of defense, but her offense wasn't nearly as good. She had won her previous fights by exhausting her opponents or forcing them to act recklessly. Apparently, the girl had some Achievement that increased the limit of her endurance. Not as powerful as "Mithril Body," but something of the same kind.

By taking the center and giving Paravi the initiative, I put the girl in a tight spot. She clearly expected to be defending, not attacking. But my position, as well as my provocative gestures, left her no choice but to go on the attack. Easily deflecting the first tentative assault and pushing back the crowd favorite with a sharp lunge, I was confident that I had chosen the right strategy for this fight. My plan was simple and straightforward. First, show that Malik could not harm me, then beat the girl with her own strategy, that is, wear her out. Not just tire her out but make her give up from fatigue. Yes, it would take a while, possibly more than half an hour of intensive combat, but such an outcome guaranteed me a minimal negative reaction from the stands. Which was, actually, what I was aiming for.

The beginning of our duel couldn't be called spectacular. Sensing a trap, the girl circled around, not quite understanding how to approach me and how to get around the tip of my spear, which was constantly pointed at the center of her stomach. It's a very inconvenient threat height for a sword fighter. In the first five minutes of the fight, Paravi risked attacking only three times, of course, without result. And I realized that we might not leave the arena until sunset at this pace. Not that I was against such an outcome, but the tournament organizers would clearly be displeased with such a waste of time. And I was getting bored. As I thought, Malik's attacks were far from the best, and all of them could be repelled even with my eyes closed.

Waiting for the next attack, I met it with a counterattack. I twirled the opponent's sword with my spear, causing Malik to lose control of her weapon for a moment. Then I directed the tip to her legs, but this was only a feint, followed by a true attack right to the heart. And to my surprise, the girl, apparently having little practice against spear fighters, was so unprepared for this that she missed the attack. And if I hadn't twisted my wrist at the last moment, making my spear miss, Paravi Malik would already be dead. Dead - without a doubt. A punctured heart can't be restored even with miracle drugs from the Alchemists' Guild. Due to the sudden change in the vector of the attack, I was thrown off balance and opened up. But the girl didn't take advantage of this opportunity. On the contrary, she jumped back three steps and covered herself with a fan defense. In her eyes, I clearly saw the belated fear. Despite all the shortcomings, Malik was still an experienced fighter and realized she had narrowly escaped death. It hit her that if I hadn't twisted my wrist at the last moment, her heart would have been cleaved in two by the wide tip of my spear. Drops of sweat appeared on Paravi's temples.

Honestly, I didn't think she would miss such a simple combination. I forgot that at the base of this attacking technique lies a basic yet earthly school of spear mastery, and the locals are unfamiliar with such changes in the attacking vector. If I had killed the girl now, it wouldn't have ended well for me. No, I would have left the Arena alive. The Alchemists' Guild would have taken care of that. But then, for example, at night, an enraged crowd might have set Aun's house on fire or do some other foolishness.

Promising myself to be more careful, I took the center again and, for a couple of minutes, stopped attacking altogether, leaving all the initiative to the girl. For such sluggish conduct of the fight, any other pair of fighters would have been booed by the spectators long ago, but now the stands just silently tensed, showing no sign of their dissatisfaction. Deciding to act simpler, after a new attack by Paravi, I repeated my previous one. And even though I was sure that the girl wouldn't fall for the same trick twice, as the finishing blow in the combination, I aimed the tip not at her heart but made an artistic stroke upwards. And again, I barely managed to turn my palm and change the direction of the strike.

Yes, the girl was ready for a second attack, but she was preparing to defend the heart area. As a result, my upward thrust of the spearhead almost slashed her beautiful face. Moreover, the wound would have been not superficial but very deep, from the corner of the left lip to the right eyebrow, cutting through the nose and possibly depriving the girl of an eye. This would not have killed her, but it would have forced the stewards to stop the fight. But in the blink of an eye, Malik, the beauty who has the entire city sighing after her, would have been turned into a grotesque. The tribunes would definitely not have forgiven me for this! Even the killing of their favorite, they probably would have taken more lightly. For the second time in the fight, cursing mentally, I broke the distance and covered myself.

After waiting for any attack for a full minute, I took the Waiting Heron stance, after which I started my own attack from this position known to any local fighter. I didn't add anything of my own this time, avoiding earthly techniques, combinations, and feints; I only used the local "classic." Paravi Malik immediately perked up and showed that even if it was by luck, she reached the Bronze finals deservedly. Her movements became timely and effective. Every lunge of mine, every feint - she had the right answer for everything. Our duel turned into a spectacular waterfall of strikes and blocks. Having felt the limit of Paravi's accessible speed, I did not ramp up my Acceleration Aura to the limit available to me but stopped at the opponent's level. My plan to exhaust the girl entered the implementation phase. I attacked predictably but continuously. Each of my lunges and feints required Paravi to strain all her powers fully. By attacking continuously, I also disturbed the girl's breathing, constantly disrupting it with attack rhythm changes, thus reducing the limit of her stamina further.

The girl easily withstood ten minutes of such frenzied assault at the limit of her available speeds. By doing this, she only confirmed the guess that she has some Achievement that increases stamina. I got so into the rhythm of constant attacks that when Paravi stumbled for the first time, I barely managed to change the direction of the strike; otherwise, I would have mutilated her beautiful face again. The girl noticed her mistake, but this time, she was not scared; she only bit her lip and sped up even more.

The next three minutes of my attacks - and here is a new failure in Paravi's defense; this time, she just didn't have time to cover her face. Again, straining my ligaments, I slow down the attack and lose my footing slightly. The counter-lunge is so unexpected that I barely have time to evade the attack by rolling.

Damn it! What a bitch! Behind her beautiful face hides a rather cold-blooded snake. This is what Ye Lan was right about! Paravi didn't intend to block my attack at all - she deliberately exposed her face, guessing that I didn't want to hurt her. After that, she took advantage of my weakness and struck, not caring about defense.

Dodging sideways, I dropped into a low stance, preparing to defend. Malik had disrupted my rhythm, and now was the perfect time for her counterattack, but instead, the girl took the center of the arena and invited me to attack with my own gesture. The switch in positions was met with delight by the spectators. For the first time during the entire fight, the spectators exploded with shouts of support and applause.

And she's good. A bitch, of course, but you can't deny her courage. And what if I hadn't stopped my attack? She would have been crippled for life. But the girl risked it and had someone else been in my place, she could very well have won the fight with that thrust!

Gritting my teeth, I spun my spear and went back on the attack. My plan for the duel had not changed. Paravi held a staunch defense for a few minutes, then began to attack, at first timidly but then more and more confidently. The girl had me figured out. She predicted my reluctance to kill or maim her. Several times, after exposing herself and ignoring a fatal blow from me, she confirmed her suspicions and became more audacious. She deliberately left some areas unprotected and did not react to my obvious deadly thrusts, disregarding them. This gave the girl a huge advantage, essentially freeing up her hands. I, on the other hand, became somewhat disoriented, more concerned about how not to kill her than about winning the fight!

Paravi Malik was playing with death, and she was fully aware of it. If I were to decide not to kill her, she would die. But even understanding this perfectly, she risked it. Throwing away the protection of vital spots, the girl bit her braid with her teeth and launched a berserk attack.

Damn! She really is a master of blocking and parrying. By reducing her defense zone by almost a third, she made it so that even when I pushed my Auras of Perception and Acceleration to the limit, I couldn't knock her out or even stop her. Kill - yes. Maim - yes. Stop without fatal consequences - no. It got to the point where I had to switch to defense. But the girl didn't stop there, growing bolder by the second. I even bit through my lip, restraining my hands from inflicting lethal blows. My instincts were howling, demanding to hit the open zones. My skills mandated exactly the same thing, and it was difficult to resist this.

For a moment, the temptation arose to abandon my original plan, flip the spear, and beat the crowd's favorite with the shaft. I think it would've taken me no more than half a minute to execute such a plan. But I was already caught up in the thrill; I had to win exactly as I had originally intended. There was a sense of challenge in it that made this fight somewhat interesting for me. In any case, I had no doubt that in the end, victory would be mine, and no tricks or stratagems would help the crowd's favorite today. None at all.

When I thought I had adjusted to Paravi's attack rhythm, I launched a counterattack. This turned out to be a trap: the girl seemed to be waiting for it, exposing her vulnerable throat to my strike. It took a Herculean effort not to end it all here and now. But I still held back. My spear weaved, opening a whole sector of failed defense. At that exact moment, the opponent's sword, enhanced by the magic of Wind, specifically - the skill "Pure Blade," which allowed one to slash through even the thick hide of nends with a light sword, rushed forward. Unlike me, Paravi Malik didn't care about the reaction of the tribunes, and she was devoid of even the slightest sentiments. She struck, knowing that if she hit, she would kill, and her hand did not tremble.

Straining my muscles and tendons to their limits, I jerked downwards, evading in the lower sliding from the Serpent School. The chill of the opponent's blade passed just a centimeter away from my neck, a gust of wind hitting the back of my head. Then I spun like a top, breaking the distance. Meanwhile, my head felt strangely light. The reason for this lightness became apparent at once. My cherished braid, cut nearly to the root, lay in the arena's sand.

My braid?!

This snake ruined my favorite hairstyle?

Paravi, apparently, took my stupor as a partial success of her strike and launched what she thought would be her final attack.

Indignation engulfed me in a wave of black. Driving my spear into the ground, I spun around it to evade a series of attacks, then stepped further away. Malik, having achieved no result, stopped in confusion, watching as I, unarmed, moved away from her.

That's right - I left my spear stuck in the ground. I calmly walked over to the severed braid, lifted it from the sand, and shook off the dirt. Then I turned to this bitch and said in a dry, emotionless tone:

"You shouldn't have done that. You really shouldn't."

The braid in my hands began to move. Overhand, transition, grip, overhand. I never liked nunchaku or combat chains, but knew how to handle them.

Rubbing my thumb over my nose like Bruce Lee, I activated the Weapon Strengthening Aura, and with the braid clutched in my hands, I advanced toward this bitch...