Amukelo put some distance to escape being pinned, but the damage he received stayed. The brief pause before Padrin's renewed assault felt like an eternity, charged with anticipation.
As Padrin dashed forward, Amukelo's strategy was to sidestep and use his opponent's momentum against him, aiming to redirect the attack and create an opening for a counterstrike. However, Padrin anticipated this move; he swiftly grabbed Amukelo's sword arm, halting its motion and leaving Amukelo vulnerable. In a fluid motion, Padrin's blade sliced through the air, nicking Amukelo's cheek—a superficial yet stinging cut that drew a thin line of blood.
The crowd reacted with a mix of gasps and cheers, the atmosphere electric with excitement and apprehension. Pao's hands were clasped tightly in front of her, her eyes wide with concern as she watched each movement with bated breath, her stress levels mounting with each strike that landed on Amukelo.
Padrin, sensing his advantage, pressed on aggressively. His next slash aimed lower, targeting Amukelo's legs. Amukelo managed to parry the strike but the force behind it caused him to stagger, his balance compromised. Padrin wasted no time, capitalizing on Amukelo's instability with another quick slash aimed at his torso.
In a desperate defensive maneuver, Amukelo used both hands to catch the blade on the side of his own sword, barely stopping the potentially debilitating strike. Yet, the force of Padrin's attack was so great that it sliced slightly into Amukelo's supporting hand.
Ignoring the searing pain, Amukelo launched a counterattack, his blade arcing toward Padrin with all the strength he could muster. Padrin leaped back just in time, the tip of Amukelo's sword missing him by mere inches. Amukelo's heavy breathing filled the silent gaps between the clashing of swords, his arm trembling from both exertion and injury.
The situation looked dire for Amukelo; Padrin not only matched but exceeded him in every aspect of combat. The experienced fighter moved with a grace and precision that Amukelo couldn't yet match, his faster, more experienced moves leaving Amukelo constantly on the back foot.
On the tribunes, the tension among the spectators mirrored the intensity in the arena. Pao's anxiety was palpable; she was visibly shaken each time Amukelo received a hit. The rest of the crowd was a mix of those reveling in the thrill of the fight and those concerned for the underdog's welfare, their voices rising and falling with the tide of the battle.
Amukelo, despite the pain and fatigue setting in, squared his shoulders, determined not to give up. He prepared for another engagement, each warrior circling the other, looking for the slightest opening to exploit, the arena holding its breath in anticipation of the next clash.
As Padrin charged forward, his sword arcing through the air with lethal intent, Amukelo's mind raced to counter the seasoned fighter's tactics. Amukelo managed to redirect the initial strike, but Padrin capitalized on the slight opening. He stepped in close, his arm reaching out in an unexpected grab, hoping to destabilize Amukelo further.
Caught off guard, Amukelo stumbled back awkwardly, his movements uncoordinated and frantic. This lapse in his defense was all Padrin needed. With a swift motion, he swung his sword again, the blade slicing through the air with a whistling sound, striking Amukelo's shoulder. A sharp gasp escaped from the crowd, a collective intake of breath filled with shock and worry.
Pao, standing amidst the guild members and other spectators, felt her heart clench as she saw Amukelo hurt. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, reflecting both the intense light of the arena and the depth of her concern. Despite the pain, Amukelo managed to regain his footing, his eyes narrowing in determination.
Padrin, sensing his advantage, pursued with a thrust, aiming to end the match with a decisive blow. However, Amukelo, driven by a surge of adrenaline and the instinct to survive, countered swiftly. He slid his blade along Padrin's, stepping in even closer to nullify the thrust. The swords locked briefly, metal grinding against metal, creating sparks that mirrored the tension in the arena.
In that moment of close contact, Amukelo took a gamble. He reared his head back and delivered a sudden, forceful headbutt. The unexpected move caught Padrin off guard, staggering him and creating a critical opening. As they both reeled back from the impact, Amukelo didn't hesitate; he swung his sword in a wide arc.
The entire arena held its breath, the silence palpable and thick with anticipation. Padrin, momentarily dazed and with his vision compromised by the headbutt, was slow to react. Amukelo's blade found its mark, slicing a clean yet shallow line across Padrin's chest. The cut was not deep, but it was enough to meet the conditions set by the master for a win.
As the realization of what happened settled over the crowd, the arena erupted into an array of reactions. Pao and the rest of Amukelo's guildmates let out cries of victory, their voices loud and exuberant amidst the general clamor. Others, who had placed their bets on Amukelo against the odds, joined in the celebration, their faces alight with the thrill of unexpected triumph.
The master's voice cut through the cacophony, amplified and authoritative, declaring the end of the match and Amukelo's victory. Green light enveloped both combatants, healing their wounds almost instantaneously, a visual cue that the duel was officially over.
Relief washed over Pao as she saw Amukelo standing victorious. Tears of joy now mingled with those of relief, and she couldn't help but smile broadly, proud of Amukelo's achievement and resilience.
As the crowd dispersed and the adrenaline of the fight began to wane, the mood among Amukelo and his friends shifted from intense excitement to jovial celebration. The master's commendation had given Amukelo a significant boost, and Padrin's acknowledgment of his growth only added to the festive atmosphere.
Padrin, examining the torn fabric of his clothing with a mixture of amusement and respect, grinned at Amukelo. "You got so much stronger since our last fight. You will quickly catch up to me," he said, giving Amukelo a solid fist bump. "I expect from you no less, partner."
Amukelo, still buzzing from the fight, responded with a confident nod. "Looking forward to it. Let's make the best of it."
As they exited the arena, Pao was already at the forefront of the tribunes, her hand extended in a 'pay up' gesture towards the various bettors who had doubted Amukelo. The sight of their surprised faces as they handed over coins was priceless, and Pao's grin widened with every clink of a coin.
Joining his friends, Amukelo was met with bags full of coins, their contents gleaming under the arena's lights. "What's all this?" he asked, his astonishment clear.
Pao, still riding the high of the win, chuckled and nudged Bao, who rolled her eyes playfully. "Let's just say your victory was not only a win for you but also for our pockets, thanks to some strategic betting by your truly skilled guildmates. Or I should say gambling addicts," she explained, waving her own hefty bag of winnings.
Bral and Idin, trying to maintain a semblance of disapproval at the gambling but failing miserably due to their own heavy bags, exchanged glances. "Yeah, about that," Bral began, handing Amukelo a bag. "Consider your debt paid. You earned it, literally."
Bao clapped her hands together excitedly. "And what better way to celebrate than a night at the pub? Bral's treat!" she declared, the group erupting into cheers.
Bral, caught off guard but already swept up in the moment, protested weakly, "Wait, why me? Pao was the mastermind behind the bets!" But his complaint was met with playful jeers and laughter.
"It's already decided, dear Bral! A man of his word, aren't you?" Bao teased, linking her arm through his as they started towards their favorite hangout.
Amid the banter, they almost forgot Padrin, who had been quietly observing the camaraderie with a hint of amusement. Noticing him still standing there, Bral extended the invitation. "Padrin, do you want to join us?"
Padrin considered the offer, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. After a brief pause, he nodded. "Why not?"