"Pay him no mind, boy," I said, focusing on our opponent. Her name was Frieda.
She was a slim woman and a bit taller than the boy. She carried a spear, so I immediately recognized she would be playing a long ranged game.
"Right," the boy said, focusing on the woman across from him.
I didn't believe in the boy's skills. At least, not yet. That was not a good feeling. He was my wielder after all. I should have confidence in him.
But now that we were going up against a real opponent, I didn't feel very sure of our position.
What if we hadn't trained enough? What if we lost in the first round? What if our enemy was much stronger than we realized?
Those thoughts scared me. I didn't want to restart my cycle. Not now. Not when the two of us had shared a connection and come so far.
I was truly fearful.
The boy didn't seem as scared.
In fact, he seemed confident.
He stepped forward, holding me at his side, watching Frieda with caution.
"Sword," the boy whispered. "What's the plan?"
"She has a spear. She'll try to hit you from afar," I replied. "Keep your distance for a while. But know that if you get up close, defeating her will be easy."
"Understood."
We kept our distance at first, moving in a circle and watching Frieda's every movement. She kept her eyes locked on us, fear in her eyes.
Fear. Good.
That meant she didn't know who the boy really was. She didn't know he was weak. She didn't know he was just a child who was weak and powerless.
I was being too hard on him. I knew that.
The boy deserved a little credit. He had me, at the very least.
"Here she comes," I warned, a second before Frieda charged, her spear rearing backward.
The boy dove to the side, out of her way.
He came up behind her, swinging me. My blade cut through the air, but I stopped myself. This was not our opening.
The boy stumbled back, glaring at me with confusion. "What the hell?"
"Back!" I yelled. "Get back now!"
The boy stepped back and narrowly avoided the swing of the spear.
"What the…,' the boy muttered. "How did you know?"
"Just trust me," I said. "I'll let you know when to move."
The boy nodded, moving to the side and keeping his eyes on Frieda who was recovering from her attack.
Frieda reset her stance quickly, spinning the spear once to regain momentum. She didn't overextend again. Smart. She lowered her center of gravity and began to circle, tip of the spear never wavering from the boy's chest.
"She's testing you now," I said. "She'll do short thrusts. She wants you to panic."
"I won't," the boy replied, though his breathing said otherwise.
The crowd murmured as the two of them paced. Spears weren't flashy weapons. They were just efficient. The audience wanted blood and drama and Frieda was offering neither.
Then she struck.
Not a charge this time. A quick thrust, fast and precise, aimed for the boy's thigh.
"Left!" I commanded.
He moved instantly, barely avoiding the spearhead as it scraped the fabric of his pants instead of flesh.
Another thrust followed. Then another. Frieda advanced step by step, her range forcing him backward toward the outer ring of the arena.
"You're giving her ground," I warned. "Stop retreating."
"I'm trying not to die," the boy hissed.
"She can't kill you," I snapped. "But she can cripple you. There's a difference."
Frieda feinted high and swept low, the butt of the spear slamming into the sand where his ankle had been a heartbeat earlier. The boy stumbled, catching himself just in time.
The crowd gasped.
That was the moment Frieda committed.
She lunged fully, spear extended, all her weight behind the strike.
"Now," I said.
The boy didn't dodge. Not this time. This was his time to push back.
Frieda attacked at that moment, bringing her spear forward.
The spearhead grazed his shoulder, tearing cloth and skin, but his momentum carried him past the attack. He brought me up in a tight arc, aiming for her hands.
Metal rang as my blade struck the shaft.
Not enough to sever the metal. But it was enough to cause a jolt.
Frieda cried out as the vibration traveled up her arms. She released one hand instinctively, and that was all the opening we needed.
"Close in," I commanded.
The boy obeyed immediately, surging forward. Now, he was just inside her reach.
Spears were terrible weapons up close. Frieda tried to shove him away with the shaft, but the boy ducked under it, shoulder slamming into her ribs.
The woman stumbled backward, shock crossing her face.
Frieda swung around, her spear swinging in a large arc.
The boy managed to move away from the tip, missing it by centimeters.
"She's adapting to your style," I said. "You must adapt as well."
"How?" the boy demanded as she swung again.
"Feel," I told him. "Stop thinking. Just feel it!"
It was almost like we were training. But this time, every attack was real. The boy was so unsure of himself. There was nothing I could do about that.
After all, it had been his decision to enter these duels so unprepared.
The spear whistled past his head. Another strike followed. The boy parried clumsily, my blade ringing as it deflected steel.
The boy's arms were tiring now. I could feel it in the way his grip changed against my hilt.
This was no longer about skill.
It was about stamina, Something the boy didn't have.
Keep going. It'll be over before you know it, I thought. The boy just had to survive.
He blocked again as Frieda attacked once more.
"Back up. Regroup," I commanded.
"Why?" The boy asked breathlessly. I knew he wouldn't want to give in so easily. Retreating meant giving up.
"You die here. Regroup and we may have a chance."