For the first time since the fight had begun, Cruzer felt the bite of steel against his throat. A single drop of blood welled at the point of her rapier, but he didn't move.
The entire coliseum fell silent.
The golden light radiating from Alisha bathed the arena, her energy pulsating like the heartbeat of a sun. Her breathing was steady, yet her fingers trembled against the hilt of her weapon. The sheer speed she had moved with—no, the sheer dominance she had exerted in that moment—had left even the audience in stunned disbelief.
She had him.
And she knew it.
"...Yield," she commanded softly, though her voice was laced with something unsteady—uncertainty, perhaps?
Cruzer, however, only smirked.
"Yield?" His voice was quiet, mocking.
Alisha's grip tightened, but she didn't move.
