Cassia manifested a sword to her right, the blade materializing with a soft shimmer of purple light, floating idly in the air until she reached up and grabbed it with practiced ease. The weapon settled into her grip as if it had always belonged there, an extension of her will made tangible.
She stared a hole through Igor, her crimson eyes unwavering and intense.
Rowan noticed right away how different this girl truly was just by the way she stared at the Commander — not with fear, nervousness, or resigned defeat like the others, but with cold calculation.
She really thinks she's gonna win, he realized with a mix of admiration and disbelief.
Utter confidence oozed out of her killer eyes, a predator assessing prey rather than a student facing a master.
"Man… your bride-to-be is fucking scary," Jared gulped, leaning closer to Rowan.
Igor's smile grew wild, his teeth showing in a feral grin. "Oh, Cassia Goldleaf. I'm excited to see what the daughter of the Captain of the Stoneguard can do… don't disappoint me, girl." His voice carried across the courtyard with genuine anticipation.
Cassia didn't respond, didn't acknowledge his words at all. Her grip on her sword simply tightened, her knuckles whitening slightly as she adjusted her stance. The only indication she'd even heard him was the subtle shift in her weight, preparing for combat.
"A look like that could kill a man, girl… be careful now," Igor said, his smile somehow getting even more out of control, stretching across his weathered face like a wound.
"Did he say she was the daughter of the Stoneguard Captain?" Rowan looked at Jared with wide eyes.
"Stoneguard? As in the royal guard in Kaelthyr? If her dad's the Captain, that means her dad is…"
Jared's voice trailed off as both boys looked ahead, speaking in unison with dawning realization.
"Sanders Goldleaf!"
"No wonder she's so scary," Jared breathed.
Sanders Goldleaf was a legend, one of the most formidable warriors in the entire kingdom of Kaelthyr. If this girl had been trained by him, it explained everything about her demeanor and skill.
The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a blade, as the duel commenced.
Cassia charged at Igor with no regard for defense whatsoever, closing the distance between them in a blur of motion.
She's fast… very fast, Rowan observed.
Her and Igor's blades clashed with a sharp metallic ring that echoed through the courtyard. She immediately released a devastating flurry of technically perfect attacks, each strike flowing seamlessly into the next, no wasted movement, no hesitation. Her form was immaculate, clearly the product of countless hours of rigorous training under a master swordsman.
At one point, she even used the weight of her sword pressed against Igor's to propel herself upward, lunging over his guard and landing hard on her heels before immediately dashing into a slash that Igor barely managed to parry, his blade deflecting hers with a shower of aeth sparks.
She backed up, not retreating but repositioning, running in a circle around Igor to change the angle of attack.
Then suddenly, without breaking stride, she launched her manifested sword at him like a spear in the same fashion Rowan had employed earlier. The blade spun through the air with deadly precision.
After releasing it, she planted her feet hard, stopping her circular run, and quickly summoned an emission blast to follow behind her thrown sword — a one-two combination that would force Igor to deal with multiple threats simultaneously. And behind that second attack… she followed, another sword already materialized in her hands, ready to capitalize on any opening.
Three attacks in sequence, Rowan thought, impressed. She's not just skilled, she's strategic.
Igor moved his head out of the way of the first sword with minimal effort, the blade passing inches from his face. He slashed through the emission blast with his manifested weapon, dispersing it into harmless sparks of aeth. And he raised his blade to block her third attack, their swords clashing once more with tremendous force, the sound reverberating through the stone courtyard.
But this time she did not linger at the point of contact.
Igor's eyes opened wide in momentary panic, realizing her plan too late as he saw the small dagger manifest below their clash point, angled directly toward his stomach. It appeared in the space between their bodies, a trick he hadn't anticipated.
Cassia dropped the sword in her hands, causing Igor to fall off balance as the resistance against his blade suddenly vanished. He stumbled forward toward the floating dagger that she quickly gripped with her now-free hand, attempting to drive it into his exposed midsection with lethal intent.
Mere centimeters from his skin, he stopped it, his battle-hardened reflexes saving him as he grabbed her wrists in an iron grip.
But still not planted firmly on his feet, still off-balance from her feint, Cassia did the impossible.
She pushed forward with every ounce of strength she possessed, her face contorting with effort, and became the first and only person of the day to make Igor take a step backward. His boot scraped against stone as he was forced to retreat, even if only by inches.
The crowd gasped collectively at the sight.
No one else had managed to do that today.
But all that accomplishment would do little for her in the end. Once Igor got his footing, planted his feet properly and stopped reeling, he countered with overwhelming force. He flung her up into the air and across the dueling circle like she weighed nothing, her body tumbling through space before crashing hard against the stone ground. She rolled several times before coming to a stop.
The duel didn't last much longer after that.
Igor pressed his advantage relentlessly, no longer toying with her, no longer testing. He attacked with the full measure of his skill, and despite her best efforts, despite her speed, her technique, her strategic mind, she couldn't overcome the vast gulf in experience and raw power.
Eventually, she found herself in the same position as many others that day — on her hands and knees, gagging on the floor as she desperately tried to draw air into her bruised lungs. Her long black hair fell around her face like a curtain, hiding her expression.