Vaeron shifted subtly, adjusting his weight and stance as his eyes scanned his opponents, calculating his next move. Despite the calm he exuded, Lucrezia could tell his entire body was burning from fatigue.
The roar from the spectators thundered in the arena, causing the ground pulsing by its pressure. She knew that sound; it was half a cheer, and half condemning, an impulse to the combatants who stood still in measure.
As if on cue, the axe-wielder charged again, bringing the weapon down with brute force. Vaeron was quick to sidestep, letting the man overextend.
He twisted, sending the flail-wielder forward, and the spear-wielder lost his footing while trying to intercept. His movements were smaller now, more precise, as though trying to conserve his energy wherever possible.
She caught the strain in his face as his arms burned from repeated blocks, his legs screaming from pivots and evasions. Her chest ached as she watched him fight against overwhelming odds.
