"Be where your enemy is not.”

-Sun Tzu

The arena's atmosphere was charged with excitement as Saraphine stepped into the arena, her armor gleaming under the harsh glare of the sun. The crowd roared in anticipation, hungry for a display of skill and blood. Her opponent, a towering figure in heavy armor, emerged from the opposite side, brandishing a shield, a sword, and a menacing mace at his side.

The reward for the winner, a Heavy Knight Lance, sunbathed in the hot sun.

The difference in size between Saraphine and her opponent was evident, but she carried herself with an air of confidence that caught the attention of the spectators. The herald's voice echoed through the arena, announcing the commencement of the duel that promised to be a spectacle of strength and finesse.

The first clash of steel rang out, the sound vibrating through the arena like a battle hymn. Saraphine moved with a fluid grace, her movements a dance of calculated precision. Her opponent, a giant mass of muscle and armor, tried to overwhelm her with sheer brute force.

The huge warrior swung his sword with a thunderous roar, but Saraphine gracefully sidestepped the attack, her armor shining on around the brute. The audience gasped at the agility displayed by the seemingly delicate fighter. It was a dance of blades, a choreography of combat that unfolded in the center of the arena.

Saraphine's weapon of choice was a slender longsword, an extension of her graceful movements. As the massive opponent swung his sword again, she parried effortlessly, her blade meeting his with a precision that left him momentarily off balance. It was not the strength of her strikes but the finesse of her technique that dictated the flow of the battle.

The shield-wielding opponent attempted to close the distance, aiming to use his size advantage. Saraphine, however, had some other plans in mind. With a nimble spin, she evaded his charge, leaving him swinging at empty air. Her footwork was as captivating as a dance, and she used it to her advantage, always remaining just out of reach.

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Her opponent dropped the sword in the hot sand, and pulled out his mace. The mace gleamed menacingly, promising devastating blows if it found its mark. Yet, Seraphine's evasive maneuvers and swift counters denied him any opportunity to unleash its destructive force. The crowd marveled at her ability to turn the battlefield into a stage, where every step and strike could be her last.

As the duel progressed, it became apparent that Saraphine's approach was not merely defensive. She seamlessly transitioned between defense and offense, her blade cutting through the air with deadly accuracy. Her opponent, frustrated by his inability to land a solid blow, grew increasingly desperate.

In an unexpected display of agility, Saraphine leaped backward, narrowly avoiding a sweeping strike from the mace. As she landed, she delivered a series of rapid thrusts, testing the defenses of her heavily armored adversary. The crowd erupted in cheers, astonished by the grace and skill on display.

The large warrior, sensing the tide turning against him, redoubled his efforts. His attacks became more ferocious, yet Saraphine continued to evade them with a dancer's grace. The arena echoed with the clash of metal.

With a sudden burst of speed, Saraphine closed the distance between them. She expertly disarmed her opponent, sending his mace down to the sand. The crowd erupted in cheers, captivated by the unexpected turn of events.

Despite being unarmed, the massive warrior refused to yield. He kicked up a cloud of sand, aimed to blind Saraphine, a move that caught her off guard. The gritty particles stung her eyes, momentarily robbing her of vision. The arena went silent.

The opponent seized the opportunity, reaching down to retrieve his discarded mace from the arena floor. With a primal roar, he swung the weapon with brutal force, aiming directly at Saraphine's head.

The impact echoed through the arena, a sickening thud that sent shockwaves through the spectators. Saraphine crumpled to the ground, her once graceful movements replaced by the harsh reality of a ruthless strike. The crowd's gasps turned to murmurs of disapproval and anger, their cheers now replaced by a collective sense of outrage.

Guards caught off guard by the sudden turn of events, hurriedly ran towards them to stop. The opponent, driven by a blind fury, stood over Saraphine's fallen body, mace raised for another strike.

But they were too late, with a fast and heavy swing, the mace made contact with her head. Mengus looked in horror as he saw Saraphine's head wide opened, her brain still pulsating, blood pouring down her face. He managed to get another strike before the guards got to him.

Her hair was mixed with the bright-red blood, her brain was all over the arena. Even her teeth were now in the arena's sand.

In the Stats Screen Mengus could see her HP that was in gray color, she was dead.