Just like that, the tournament continued, the days slipping by in a blur of cheers, strikes, and fierce clashes of steel.
Lucavion watched, keenly attuned to the rhythm of each match, his own and Valeria's, as their respective paths wove through the week's endless surge of contenders.
His third opponent had been a swordsman, an early 3-star. The man held his ground well, skilled in blade techniques meant to parry and counter, but Lucavion had dispatched him with minimal effort, relying more on speed and precision than strength.
The bout was over in moments, his opponent unable to keep up with Lucavion's swift footwork and confident, almost mocking, ease. Lucavion left the arena that time with hardly a drop of sweat, his amusement barely contained as he flashed the crowd his signature smirk on his way out.
