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Chapter 9 - A Fleeting Opportunity

Oliver's opponent appeared before him just as he was preparing to evade, moving with such speed that he was caught off guard. Though Oliver had anticipated that the bulky armor might slow his adversary down, the sudden burst of speed was beyond anything he could have imagined. It was almost as if the opponent had shed their restraints in an instant, closing the gap with a swiftness that defied logic.

He barely had time to react, much less dodge. In the split second before impact, Oliver decided to release the longbow in his grip. But just as his fingers twitched, the gleaming tip of the opponent's spear shot forward, not at his body, but toward the bow itself. The spear struck with such precision that the wooden bow was ripped from his grasp effortlessly, as if it had been the spear's target all along.

Oliver hadn't intended to hold onto the bow, knowing it would be of little use in close combat. After all, a wooden bow was no match for an iron spear. However, the way the opponent had discarded their armor to increase speed now offered Oliver a glimmer of hope. With the opponent lighter and more agile, there was a chance for him to engage in close-quarters combat, something he hadn't been able to do so far.

For Oliver, this was a new kind of battle, facing an opponent up close and personal, where every movement mattered.

Taking advantage of the moment the bow left his hands, he lunged forward, his left foot propelling him as his right fist, which had been coiled at his waist, shot toward the opponent's face with brutal precision. The opponent reacted just in time, abandoning the spear and opting instead to grab Oliver's arm. In one fluid motion, she swung the shield she carried in her left hand toward him. But Oliver was ready, his left hand pressed against her shield to stop the strike, while his right leg drove a powerful knee straight at her abdomen.

Pinned between her own shield and Oliver's attack, the opponent found herself with no choice but to relinquish her shield. It clattered to the ground as her left hand dropped to block the knee aimed at her midsection. But even as she deflected the blow, she realized too late that Oliver's left hand was already in motion, raised high in preparation for another strike.

Oliver leapt into the air, his left elbow arcing down in a crushing motion aimed squarely at her. In that instant, the opponent had a choice: take the hit head-on or release her grip on Oliver's arm. There was no time to think. Desperately, she let go of his right hand and brought her own arm up just in time to block the descending elbow.

But Oliver was relentless. As she barely managed to fend off the elbow strike, he locked his fingers together and raised both arms high above his head. With a forceful downward swing, he aimed to deliver a crushing blow. In normal circumstances, the opponent might have had the strength to counterattack or throw him off, but Oliver's speed left her with no room to maneuver.

Yet even then, she found a way to retaliate. With her hand already guarding against his knee strike, she shifted her grip and seized Oliver's leg, turning rapidly on the spot. The sudden centrifugal force was enough to break his rhythm completely. He felt his body lurch as she spun him around, his movements reduced to helpless flailing.

For what felt like an eternity, she whirled him in circles, her strength undeniable. Then, with a mighty heave, she released him. Oliver flew through the air, the world spinning around him.

But even as he was launched, Oliver kept his wits about him. Using his momentum, he twisted midair, hands outstretched to meet the ground first. His palms hit the earth, absorbing much of the impact, and he flipped back onto his feet. Though he landed some distance away from his longbow, he was even farther from the opponent's discarded shield. Scattered arrows littered the battlefield between them.

The audience, stunned into silence by the exchange of lightning-fast moves, could barely process what they had just witnessed. In the previous bout with Rosa, the combat had been deliberate, each attack calculated. But now, with the sheer speed and unpredictability of the fight, those watching began to question their own understanding of combat. Was this what true skill looked like, this rapid exchange, where even the slightest hesitation could lead to defeat? The tension in the air was palpable, and Oliver knew the fight was far from over.

Oliver blocked Rosa's attack, not because she went easy on him, but because he had earned it, he had successfully anticipated and reacted in time. The audience might have been fooled into thinking he was lucky, but there was no hesitation on the battlefield.

Rosa didn't waste time retrieving her shield. Instead, she charged at him with relentless speed, faster than before, giving Oliver no moment to catch his breath. His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling as he tried to control it. He knew well that labored breathing could throw off his timing and slow him down in a fight like this.

Without thinking, Oliver shifted his weight and darted to the left, retreating quickly. But his opponent wasn't fazed. She had been fast even while wearing armor, and now, without the extra weight, she was a force of nature. The ground cracked beneath her feet as she stepped forward, hand outstretched to grab his right arm like she had done before. But this time, Oliver was ready. He twisted, dodging her grasp, slipping behind her like a shadow. With a surge of determination, he pressed his hand against her back, hoping to push her off balance.

Yet, to his surprise, it felt like he had pushed against solid rock. She didn't budge, her stance was immovable, as if she were anchored to the earth itself.

His eyes widened, and in a split second, Oliver jumped backward, narrowly avoiding her as she turned to face him again.

As he landed, fortune seemed to favor him for once. His leap had brought him closer to his longbow, and next to it, two arrows lay scattered on the ground. He now stood closer to his weapon than Rosa was to her shield. For a moment, he surveyed the battlefield, arrows were scattered across the ground, the wooden sign still attached to her shield facing away from him.

Then it hit him, this wasn't just about defeating his opponent in combat. He didn't have to overpower her. The game's goal wasn't to break her but to make her wooden sign fall. Victory didn't demand brute strength. it required precision.

His mind raced as he quickly formed a plan. He didn't hesitate. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Oliver sprinted toward his longbow. He only needed one good shot to knock down that wooden sign and win.

But Rosa wasn't blind to his intentions. She, too, realized what Oliver was planning. In a flash, she was moving, racing toward the shield and her fallen spear. But that brief hesitation to locate him had cost her precious seconds. As Oliver closed the distance to his bow, she barely made it to her spear.

With the longbow in hand, Oliver nocked an arrow, raised it, and aimed at the wooden sign on her shield. He took a steadying breath, focused on the target, and released the arrow.

As the arrow flew, he glanced at Rosa, who was now hurtling toward him with the spear. He was certain there was no way she could block it this time, she was too far, and the distance made it impossible for her to use her shield.

But then he realized his mistake. Rosa wasn't trying to block the arrow with her shield, she had already retrieved her spear.

Planting her feet firmly on the ground, she twisted her body, and with a snap of her waist, she hurled the spear with incredible force. The spear whistled through the air, faster than anything he had ever seen. In a blink, it collided with his arrow mid-flight, shattering it into pieces before it could even come close to the sign.

Oliver blinked in disbelief. He didn't have time to waste, he reached for another arrow, preparing to fire again. But before he could loose his shot, Rosa had already closed the gap between them. She stood between him and the shield now, her spear still in hand, her movements swift and precise.

He shot the arrow, hoping for a miracle, but she caught it effortlessly, breaking it in two with her bare hands.

Desperate, Oliver grabbed yet another arrow from the ground. This time, he aimed upward, shooting the arrow high into the sky. Then, without pausing, he fired a second arrow in a straight line, hoping to catch her off guard with the dual attack.

But Rosa remained unshaken. She stepped forward, calmly snatching the first arrow from the air. Then, in one fluid motion, she flipped it around and hurled it skyward. Her movements were so fast, so controlled, that Oliver could hardly comprehend it.

Moments later, one arrow fell harmlessly to the ground, while the other stuck upright in the dirt.

Oliver's frustration was palpable. He clenched his fists, teeth grinding together as a vein throbbed on his temple. How could she be so precise, so unwavering? The crowd watched in awe, but all Oliver felt was mounting pressure. This wasn't just a game, it was a test of his very limits, and Rosa seemed intent on pushing him to the edge.