Chapter 7 Verena

I see Maêl approaching me.

He is looking handsome as ever.

I can't help but notice anger in his eyes.

"Look who care to join to get his butt kicked." I tease him but his expression is still blank. I notice something is off with him. I clear my throat. "Is something wrong?" I ask with concern.

I know it is not like me but I think we kind of have a relation that I can't name also. "As if you care, Red. Don't get all too excited that I'll be easy on you. I'm going to win and I'm going to fuck that little pussy of yours." Maêl barked.

And that is it.

It's all destroyed. How can I think that Maêl can be more like a gentleman and less asshole. The anger boil again in me. I hate him more than I hate anything. I walk past him ignoring him.

We were now in the arena.

The people who know about the challenge are gathered to see how Maêl destroy me. And they rant about me that how pathetic I am and how mercilessly Maêl broke me. But all of their expectations are going to get ruined. Because that is what I am best doing at, ruining expectations.

We are standing face to face.

Maêl and I bow.

A formality that is not even followed in a real battle.

Maêl reach for his sword. The handle is long and covered with leather, the color is silver and plain. I look down at my own. It is simple and easy for me too carry but it's not a proper sword as compared to the one Maêl is holding. My father gave me this sword when I was a kid and now I am a little larger and older too. So it is small for me.

I unshielded my sword as do Maêl too.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

I open my eyes and launch at Maêl but he doge my attempt.

In the grand arena, the atmosphere is electric with anticipation as Maêl and I begin to fight. The crowd held their breath, their eyes fixed on the two of us who are about to engage in a battle of epic proportions.

Maêl's every movement is precise and calculated, a testament to years of training. I am skilled with an air of confidence, I meet his gaze with a subtle smirk, my sword held effortlessly in hands.

As the clash of steel echoed through the arena, the intensity of the battle became palpable. Maêl's strikes are swift and precise, each one aimed with deadly accuracy. He fighting with finesse, showcasing his agility and quick reflexes. I, however, proved to be a worthy opponent, matching his every move with a grace that seemed almost supernatural to me too.

Our swords danced through the air, a symphony of steel meeting steel. Sparks flew as our weapons clashed, the sound reverberating through the arena. The crowd gasped and cheered with every strike, their hearts pounding in their chests. Maêl's strength lay in his precision and unwavering determination. Each swing of his blade was executed with purpose, his strikes aimed at exploiting any weaknesses in my defense. He moved with calculated grace, his footwork flawless as he maneuvered around the arena.

I, on the other hand, relied on my agility and speed. My movements are fluid to his angry fire, my sword whirling through the air like an extension of my own body. I effortlessly parried Maêl's attacks, countering with lightning-quick ripostes that kept him on his toes. The battle raged on, the suspense thick in the air. Each of us showcased our unique fighting styles, our strengths and weaknesses laid bare for all to see. Maêl's determination pushed him forward, driving him to find the perfect opening.

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TO BE CONTINUED........