Were they watching me? Those two would-be knights, up there, somewhere, I forgot if they were on the left… or perhaps in a place a little more right. If they were, what were they thinking?

When I march firm steps forward - shield raised, sword in a brace - and when Bob takes a cowering step back.

What were they seeing?

A sleight of hand? A second wind?

There were many ways to read the almost palpable atmosphere permeated by he and I. If I was right up there with them too, a stray onlooker from the outside looking in, what would I see?

"Look here! Look here!" Tyler cried, rounding the crowd, rallying the stares. "Take a closer look, you'd see the Big Man's focused! Big Man's determined! And he's got that killing intent!"

They sounded - felt so distant, the people perched above. They all blended into one, an indescribable collective blur of sight, sound and mind. The only thing perceivable, the only thing real… was the harsh glint at the tip of my opponent's blade, and the way his gaze gleamed just as harsh.

"Killing intent…" He said, his tone aligned with the still lingering amusement in his eyes. "Hate to put you down, but honestly I just don't see it."

Not for long, however.

"Do you want to?" I asked.

"I won't have to," He replied, raising both his arms once again. "This will be all over before it ever comes to that."

In response, I took another march forward, and he stopped taking steps back. "You mIght be right about that."

Bob darted forth, an instant spur - kicking up grains of dirt as he went, whether intentional, whether deliberate, it never mattered in the end. His blade never reached, once more deterred by the blunt edge of my own.

At once, like always, he followed up with a second strike right after, a swing aimed high and a swing striking air as I ducked under immediately below. Tried to play the unpredictable ploy, but ended up doing the total opposite instead.

His third met my shield, his fourth clashed, thunked - thwarted again - and his fifth… well he never ever once struck a fifth.

So I did instead.

Played with sticks when I was younger, swung branches when I was a wee bit older - sword was still heavier, clumsier - I felt the entirety of it sway as I winded my arm, the weight of the blow, the rippling shockwave of the hit.

A clangor rang out.

I didn't even know what I hit, but I knew I hit something, and I knew I hit it hard. From the heavy grunt past gritted teeth, by the strain in his narrowed eyes, and that split-second moment of non-movement.

Took a page out of his book too - I didn't stop there. I lifted a leg, kicked him, staggered him just for good measure. Nearly tripping, he stumbled back, eyes burning with a fury like never before, and charged at me once more.

That's all he ever does… like a bull seeing red, baring his horns mindlessly, recklessly. Next to eluding Matriarchs, next to dodging spells from an enraged Magus, Bob was… pleasantly normal.

"Bob tripped!" Tyler echoed a chortle, which prompted many more to follow. "Fast feet but not-so-fast reaction speeds, it looks like! Should have seen the ol' leg tripping coming from a mile away! At this point, Big Man's just playing with his food, don't think Bob would make for a good meal though. Can already feel my stomach aching just thinking about it!"

Even I was surprised he fell for that one. I wasn't even subtle about it, thought he'd vault over it - 'stead there he laid leaving an imprint of himself in the dirt, sputtering out grains of sand from his lips.

Confidence whittled, bravado tumbled - his true colors unshed, staring up at me as he rose with a scowl instead of a leer, a brazen frown replacing his smirk.

"That won't happen again," He told me, his tone no longer as impish as it once was. "So don't fucking bother trying that again."

"Why not?" I taunted, mimicking his jovial self. "If it worked once, bound to work twice. That's what you're doing right now anyway, aren't you?"

"I learned my lesson now."

"Have you? Well, we'll see about that."

We both took the first strike this time. We both charged forward, one another's blade raised, shield at the ready - he went low, I went high - a clumsy unrefined flurry of blades. I knew my swings were too wide, too slow, but in turn, so was his… and it made for a skirmish of whom Lady Luck decided to bless first.

It was clear he wasn't used to the strain of that hunk of metal in his grip - it was slowing him, weighing him down, and as the battle waged on the repercussions were gradually starting to show.

He swung with grunts louder, gasps of air deeper… the strenuous effort showed on his face too. How red it glowed, and the trickling sweat pouring from every pore.

Yet he made good on his claim - lesson learned - he wasn't just swinging sporadically and randomly now. Every strike had intent, every attempt brushing to a hit and closer and closer, until eventually…

"Ooo!" A grimacing hiss resounded in the speakers. "Okay, that didn't sound good. Bob got himself a blow, and boy was it a good one. Augh, I felt that from here. That sound! What kinda plastic sword is that?"

My turn to wince, my mistake to languish. He did a spin and I thought he'd end it left - didn't think he'd strike right.

The clangor pierced through the gasps of the crowd - my arm gave a shudder, like a billion volts of lightning surged within all at once as it met the brunt of his attack.

Had it not been for the armor I think I might have been looking at a fracture.

Still, though the damage was dampened, the feeling still seared. I tried to hide it, I couldn't let it show… yet despite my best efforts, Bob knew that I was hurting.

But honestly, compared to others, it really was nothing.

The moment soon passed, and Bob, confidence reignited, took that chance to strike again.

I immediately raised my shield on impulse - another mistake - the impact resonated, pulsed, and the throbbing in my arm intensified.

"Stings, doesn't it?" Bob asked, backing away, his smile resurfacing. "My brother always says to go for the arms if all else fails. Nice to see his advice still ringing true."

Okay, I just about had it with his attempts at a jibe. They weren't even any good anyway.

"Brother this, brother that, you can't do anything without him, can you?" I said, buying time for the stinging to subside.

He stopped moving. "Meaning?"

"You know what I mean," I continued. "Your entry, the race, and now this? Seriously, you're just a leech that just can't stop leeching. Nothing you accomplish is of your own merits, there's always somebody else to thank for it."

"Yeah, so what of it?" He said, yet his smile still waned. "I told you I play dirty."

"You aren't even playing dirty. Hell, you aren't even playing at all. You think if you win, you think it'd be 'cause you did it on your own? No, you don't win… you don't win anything. If you win now, then your sword better be the one I see on that pedestal, or even your brother maybe… but certainly not you. That ain't your victory to relish."

"Not my victory to relish…" Bob repeated in an amused whisper. "Why so serious? It's just a game, Big Man."

"True, it is just a game," I threw it back to him. "So why all the tricks? Why all the cheats? This battle's supposed to be honorable. Where's the honor? Why do you wanna win so badly?"

"Well, why not? The prizes are pretty enticing, don't you think? That Elf especially, she's… she's really something else. Who wouldn't want a taste of her?"

I thinned my lips. "You won't get her."

"Why not?" He challenged, stomping once forward. "I'm beating you already, aren't I?"

"Are you, though?" I scoffed as loud as I could, as demeaningly as I could. "That brings us full circle to the main point. Tell me, can you really call using that crutch of a weapon actually beating me? You didn't take that sword 'cause you wanna play dirty. You took it, because you know you'd lose without it. And to me, that just screams the truth entirely - face it, Bob. You already lost."

He shook his head. "You're wrong."

"No, I'm right, you know I'm right," I affirmed. "Your brother, for one… he must love you lots to risk his reputation for you. Makes me wonder - when you guys are playing sword fight, all that time you've been beating him, and the way I've seen you fight… you sure he just wasn't just going easy on you all along?"

Mind games. The invisible battle that was just as vital. And, unsurprisingly, he lost that one too.

He may not have honor, but he still has that one thing - dignity, or what little of it was left.

And I just up and spit on it. Justifiable.

With that scowl reemerging, and the flicker in his brow. Bob was not a happy man.

"Yeah…" I said, finally replicating perfectly his smarmy smirk. "Stings, doesn't it?"