"We need a way to hit that wooden sign," Oliver murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes darted to the enemy who now stood between him and the shield. Any shot he made towards the sign would be easily blocked. Frustration simmered beneath his calm facade.
Adding magic power to the arrow was no solution. It would only increase the arrowhead's penetration, but without a solid tip, it was no more effective than a regular arrow. He remembered how effortlessly his opponent had caught his previous shot with bare hands. Magic or not, she'd block it just the same.
Growing impatient, his opponent suddenly dashed towards him, her speed unsettling.
"Tsk," Oliver clicked his tongue, knowing he had no choice but to act. He swiftly notched the arrow to his longbow. There wasn't enough time for careful aim, so he picked a rough direction and loosed the arrow, hoping to slow her down.
The result was disheartening. With a slight tilt of her head, she easily dodged the arrow, barely breaking her stride. Her approach was relentless.
Realizing his ranged attacks were futile, Oliver discarded the longbow, tossing it far from him. He had no choice now but to engage in close combat. Yet, just as he prepared to defend himself, something caught his eye. The arrow he had fired, the one she had so effortlessly ignored, was now embedded in the ground just a dozen paces from the shield.
For a split second, Oliver froze, his mind racing with possibilities. But in that brief hesitation, he missed a prime opportunity to strike back. His opponent was already upon him.
She lunged, her right hand reaching for his shoulder, aiming to throw him off balance and end this quickly. But even though Oliver had faltered earlier, his reflexes were still sharp. He ducked down, narrowly avoiding her grasp, then sprang backward. As his hands grazed the ground to steady himself, he rolled to his feet, immediately adjusting his stance and regaining his breath.
His opponent, had been holding back before, attacking with quick but relatively soft blows, likely either out of caution or because she hadn't fully grown into her strength. But this new adversary, she gave him no such quarter. Each movement was calculated, every strike forceful, leaving Oliver no time to recover. This battle was unlike anything he'd experienced, and the intensity of the fight had worn him down quickly. He could feel his stamina draining with every dodge, every block. His physical exhaustion was beginning to cloud his focus.
Breathing heavily, Oliver cursed under his breath. He was running out of options. If his ability, the one that allowed him to see from the sky, faded, he would be left vulnerable, unable to see in the glaring light that filled the battlefield. His ability was simple yet effective: a magical bird he'd created, invisible to most, gave him a bird's-eye view of the fight. By using the archer's skill, Eagle Eye, he could see through its eyes and track the battlefield with precision. But the longer the fight dragged on, the more magic the bird consumed, and Oliver could feel it slipping away.
He knew he had to act fast.
"If the arrow doesn't hit you directly… it won't be blocked," he muttered to himself, his mind racing. His eyes flicked back to the wooden bow he had discarded earlier, then to the arrows scattered nearby.
She moved in again, her attack swift and familiar. She swung with her right hand, but this time, Oliver was faster. He grabbed her arm mid-strike, twisting just as she attempted to counter. She reached for his wrist, trying to free herself, but Oliver anticipated her move. He let go at the last moment, dropping low and thrusting his knee upwards.
Instinctively, she crossed her arms to block the knee strike, exactly as he had hoped.
With her arms tied up in defense, Oliver seized his chance. His hands shot forward, grabbing her arms. Using the momentum, he pulled his legs up, planted his feet against her arms, and pressed his weight down, pinning her in place. Then, with a powerful kick, he launched himself backward, propelling towards the wooden bow he had left behind.
Landing lightly near the bow, Oliver grinned, breathing hard but satisfied. His mind was clear now, and a plan was forming. If he could keep her off-balance just a little longer, this fight might yet turn in his favor.
Realizing that Oliver was reaching for his longbow, she darted toward him, her movements swift and decisive. But even as she closed in, Oliver was already in motion. His landing was smooth, and in one fluid action, he turned, grabbed the longbow, and notched three arrows from the five he had picked up. In the blink of an eye, he released the string, sending all three arrows hurtling toward her.
She reacted with lightning speed, shattering one arrow mid-flight, but the other two slipped past her defenses. Though she dodged them, it was clear they had only narrowly missed their mark.
"Ah, as I suspected," Oliver said, a small smile breaking across his face for the first time during the duel. "You only know how to defend against attacks that seem inevitable."
Without missing a beat, he raised the longbow again, drawing back the string. This time, he notched the remaining two arrows. One was aimed directly at her, but the other, curiously, seemed to target nothing of importance. His focus was not on the arrow aimed at her but rather the one headed in the opposite direction.
With incredible precision, she caught the arrow flying towards her, her fingers moving with an almost unnatural speed. She didn't even glance at the other arrow, dismissing it entirely. But that, as Oliver had anticipated, was her mistake.
He lowered his bow and turned his back on her, calmly walking away from the battlefield. In the same motion, he dismissed the floating objects in the sky, the magical entities that had granted him a bird's-eye view. His eyes, sore from the strain, remained open just enough to navigate.
The crowd watching, from the students in the stands to the teachers and even the referee, was frozen in confusion. Was the duel over? What was Oliver doing?
The principal, his sharp eyes following the flight of the second arrow, frowned in thought. "Is there magic power in that arrow?" he muttered. Indeed, the arrow didn't carry its magic at the tip but rather in the middle of the shaft. A faint glow pulsed from it. What was Oliver's plan?
Then it happened. Just as the crowd's anticipation peaked, a loud explosion shattered the silence. The second arrow, the one that had flown seemingly without purpose, erupted into fragments, a burst of magic power splintering the arrow into countless sharp pieces.
The fragments scattered wildly through the air, and amongst them were the sharpened arrowheads. One of the flying arrowheads found its mark, it shot towards the shield that had been positioned as a target. The rope that held the wooden sign in place was already loose, worn down by her movements earlier, and now, with the arrowhead slicing through it, the rope snapped.
For a brief moment, she hesitated, her eyes widening in realization. She had nothing left to throw, no weapon at hand. Her mind raced for a solution, but even if she had something to hurl, it was too late. The wooden sign fell to the ground with a resounding thud, signaling the end of the duel.
The arena fell into complete silence. The only other sound was Oliver collapsing to his knees. His legs had given out, unable to support him any longer. He remained still, motionless, utterly drained. His final maneuver, along with the strain of maintaining his magical sight from above, had completely exhausted him.
He had known this was coming, which was why he had tried to leave the arena earlier. His magic reserves were spent, and a wave of dizziness washed over him. He hadn't been fast enough to escape his own fatigue.
But no one moved to assist him. Everyone in the arena was too stunned to react. They couldn't believe what they had just witnessed. Had he really calculated the trajectory of the arrow fragments after the explosion? Was such precision even possible without divine intervention?
A murmur spread through the crowd as students and teachers alike whispered in disbelief. It wasn't until a teacher finally snapped out of the daze and hurried over with a bottle of restorative potion that someone made a move.
Oliver, still breathless but with a small grin, accepted the bottle. "Not this time," he said quietly to himself. "No one's going to force this down my throat again. Last time, I couldn't sleep for days, and they poured some kind of cooling medicine into my nose. It was refreshing, sure, but it stung for hours."
As he chuckled softly, his opponent let out a sigh. The fight was over. Accepting her defeat, the light of battle faded from her expression. She picked up her things and, after the referee declared the result, she turned on her heel and disappeared from the court, leaving Oliver alone to bask in his hard-won victory.