Leta unconsciously flexed her hands as one of Mic’s team and Atreus stepped forward, as if in unison.

“I’ll take your gear but your knives and anything you don’t want with you in the fight, your Majesty,” Atreus spoke quietly as John began pulling weapons from his person and passing it to the subordinate.

Leta followed suit and pulled her crossbow, canister staffs, and boot daggers before handing each item to Atreus.

She paused over her gauntlets and sighed in disappointment before unhooking the fastenings and placing them into the General’s waiting hands.

Next, she doffed her leather jacket and shirt to expose her armored chest and arms, her eyes drifting to her opponent. The subordinate’s knees trembled under the weight of the weapons John extracted from what seemed like every conceivable space.

Brass knuckles, crossbows, daggers, canister staffs, pistols, and even small vials of swirling mist she would bet were smoke bombs. Pulling from behind his back, the man revealed a massive weapon. It looked like a pickaxe but was likely a bludgeoning tool. The thing was so heavy that the assistant grunted and wheezed in pain at its weight as John placed it on top of his overflowing pile.

He stripped out of his jacket and shirt leisurely, as if to intimidate her with every muscle he exposed.

If she wasn’t about to fight him, Leta would’ve rolled her eyes at his showboating. She had to admit that he cut a rather foreboding shadow, the armor on his tree trunk-sized arms and burly chest barely able to fit around his muscled frame.

A throat clearing caught her attention, and she turned to see De Mar brackets forming at the edges of his mouth as if he were uneasy with the duel.

“Please present your weapons.”

Leta, with a swift movement, drew her daggers from her vambraces, while John simultaneously unsheathed his from the holsters near his ribs.

Leta presented two tactical combat knives, while John showed two rather lengthy punch daggers.

She raised an eyebrow at his choice but realized it made sense.

The man understood that his strength gave him an edge in the fight; of course, he would pick a blade that worked best in a brawl and was most effective with force behind its stab.

De Mar inspected the weapons for a moment, while Gada informed her that he was using one of his skills to check that the blades were in proper order and not coated in poison or any other trickery.

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He gave a satisfied nod and withdrew. “I have verified that the chosen weapons for this duel are of equal quality and have not been tampered with. We are ready to begin.”

“Good luck, Leta.” She heard Atreus whisper as he stepped to the side and was absorbed by the crowd. The poor assistant took a few minutes to hobble away, and the weapons clinked and groaned in his grasp.

She and John held each other’s gaze for a moment as if daring the other to back out before the two turned and stepped apart, their weapons gripped tightly as they faced each other.

Her heart was beating wildly with anticipation and a healthy dose of something that was more concern or nervousness than fear.

Some little part of her was scared still, like a rabbit hiding in the brush waiting for a predator to spot it whimpered at the knowledge that there was a very real possibility that she was going to be beaten within an inch of her life.

But over shadowing all that was beast baying for a fight.

Her excitement for the duel outweighed any nervousness - her body count today alone was too high for anything else.

She focused on the steady rhythm of her own breath, the fear in her mind fading to a quiet whisper, like a distant star’s faint glow against the silent void.

She reminded herself that pain was to be expected. She fully anticipated to have her bones broken and her blood spilled in the next few minutes.

As she exhaled, she remembered a quote from one of her favorite books that gave her some peace and clarity as she faced off against her opponent.

‘I will permit this fear to pass through me and over me, and where the fear has gone, there will be nothing. Only I will remain.’

“Witnesses, be advised. This duel has no physical boundaries. To witness is to accept the risk that you may be wounded during their struggle.” De Mar’s voice was deep as he cautioned the onlookers.

Leta dipped her head as she tightened her grip on weapons, feeling strangely at peace despite her heart sending adrenaline rushing through her veins.

Her swirling eyes flared, blue flashes in their depths like a storm caught in a void as her resolve manifested within her.

“On my mark, the duel shall begin.” De Mar raised his palm as a hush fell over the crowd.

With her arms loose and angling herself to present a smaller target, she took a deep breath in before letting it out slowly once more. Simultaneously, John assumed a fighting stance, his lips twisted in a bloodthirsty sneer. She let the electricity rise within, her body buzzing with static, undetectable except for the faint prickling of goosebumps and the way her hair coiled like rousing snakes around her.

“Only I will remain.” She whispered as De Mar brought his arm down.

“Begin!”

John was a blur of motion as he launched himself forward like a cannonball, immediately barreling forward before De Mar’s axe hand had fully lowered.

‘Fuck!’ Leta sidestepped out of the brawler’s attack and ducked low to dodge the right hook tipped with a spike aimed at her face.

She saw a knee rising from the corner of her eye, heading straight for her exposed chest at an alarmingly fast pace for something that large.

John was fast, but Leta’s reflexes were just a bit faster.

She lunged with her dagger, striking the back of his knee and pulling, using the flat of her blade like a level fulcrum and causing his knee to sail past her nose with only centimeters to spare. His armored legs prevented a cut from the weapon, but the move broke John’s momentum and forced him to spin to the side to keep himself upright.

‘Gotcha!’ Leta bared her teeth as the surprisingly graceful maneuver left John off-balance with only one arm to protect himself from another strike.