Bianca moved with a deliberate grace, her feet tracing a path not directly towards Valen, but in a wide, sweeping arc around him. Her eyes darted across his imposing figure, searching, probing for an undefended angle, a sliver of space where her blade could strike without encountering the formidable barrier of his hands. His reach is immense, she thought, her mind racing, I need to find a blind spot, somewhere his brute strength won't matter.
Valen, his brow furrowed in confusion, tracked Bianca's movements with an unwavering gaze. He remained rooted to his spot, a silent sentinel, wary of any sudden feint or concealed maneuver. His instincts screamed caution; this circling was no mere hesitation, it was a calculated dance.
From the edge of the crowd, Rider voiced the obvious, his anxiety palpable. "What do you think Bianca is doing? She isn't attacking; she's just circling around him."
Aingo, leaning back in his chair with an air of detached observation, responded, "My guess is she's probing for a weakness, trying to find an exploitable gap in his defense. But with a fighter like that... who knows the depths of her strategy?" A hint of grudging respect colored his tone.
Back in the arena, Bianca continued her circumambulation. This time, however, she was acutely aware of Valen's unwavering gaze. She intended to use his focus against him. Circling in a clockwise direction, she established a predictable rhythm, allowing Valen to anticipate her movement. Then, in a fluid shift, as she reached his back, she reversed her steps, pivoting into an anticlockwise motion with surprising agility. The sudden change in direction caught Valen off guard. His massive frame turned clockwise, his eyes momentarily losing track of her swift repositioning.
Exploiting this fleeting lapse in his awareness, Bianca closed the distance rapidly, her sword raised, aiming to deliver a swift attack before Valen could fully reorient himself. But as her blade descended, Valen's reaction was instantaneous. His free hand shot out, a vise of steel, clamping down on the flat of her blade with astonishing force.
Rider, watching with bated breath, gasped. Bianca strained with all her might, pulling back on her sword, but Valen's grip remained unyielding. With a terrifying tightening of his fist, the metal of her sword groaned and twisted, then with a sickening crack, it shattered, leaving Bianca standing defenseless, the broken hilt clutched in her trembling hands. She stumbled backward, her eyes wide with shock and a dawning sense of desperation, frantically searching for any semblance of a plan.
Azreal, witnessing Bianca's sudden disarmament, felt a knot of apprehension tighten in his chest. He regretted not heeding his earlier instincts to postpone the match. A wave of protectiveness washed over him; Bianca was now utterly vulnerable. High above, King Neon, his gaze sharp and perceptive, subtly noted Azreal's shift in demeanor, his expression betraying a flicker of concern. The King remained silent, his attention fixed on the unfolding drama below.
A collective gasp of horror rippled through the crowd. The image of Valen, a towering figure of raw power, facing an unarmed woman conjured a visceral sense of unease. Rider, his earlier anxiety escalating into full-blown panic, wrung his hands. "What can she possibly do now?" he muttered frantically. "He has, like, ten ways to end this."
Aingo, ever the pragmatist, corrected him dryly. "Nah, I'd say closer to a hundred. Ten with his sword, the other ninety with those wrecking balls he calls fists." Rider shot Aingo a look of exasperated disbelief. "Must you be so… precise?" he asked, his voice laced with a tremor of fear as he glued his gaze back to the arena, sweat beading on his forehead.
Back in the ring, Valen took a deliberate step closer to Bianca. With each of his measured advances, Bianca retreated, her eyes darting nervously around the confines of the fighting circle, desperately seeking an escape route, a tactical advantage in her now dire situation. In her backward stumble, her foot caught on an uneven patch of the arena floor. She lost her balance and fell heavily, landing hard on the dusty surface.
Valen closed in, his massive frame looming over her as he squatted down to her level. His expression, surprisingly, held a strange mix of earnestness and something akin to discomfort. "I find no pleasure in harming women," he stated, his voice surprisingly gentle for his imposing size. "It is a blow to my pride. I would not lay a finger on you in malice." The crowd murmured in confusion, Bianca herself staring up at him with utter bewilderment.
Valen continued, his gaze steady. "If you are wondering how I intend to win without fighting back… well, it is simple. I will allow you to attack me. You will find it pointless, exhausting. Eventually, you will tire. Regardless of the outcome for me, I would sooner fall than intentionally harm a lady. These… these are my father's teachings."
With a deliberate motion, Valen sheathed the broken remnants of Bianca's sword and then, to the astonishment of everyone present, he unbuckled his own massive weapon, a broadsword that looked heavy enough to cleave a tree in half, and laid it down on the ground near Bianca. He then stood in the very center of the tournament ring, unarmed and seemingly defenseless.
Bianca, still reeling from the unexpected turn of events, slowly pushed herself up into a kneeling position. She stared at Valen's enormous sword, then back at his unarmed figure. With a surge of adrenaline and a flicker of renewed hope, she reached out with both hands, hefting the surprisingly weighty weapon. She stood, the heavy sword trembling slightly in her grip, her gaze fixed on Valen. "Thank you… truly," she said, her voice still tinged with disbelief. "You have given me a chance to fight. But… are you sure you won't regret this?"
A confident smirk spread across Valen's face, his eyes gleaming with a strange anticipation. "Bring it on."
A hush fell over the crowd, every eye fixated on the unlikely tableau before them. Bianca, armed with Valen's formidable sword, stood poised against the unarmed giant in the center of the ring. The question hung heavy in the air: what would happen next?