59.

Elai's pov

I don’t hear of Nerys again, but I do win all my matches. I have nailed seven of them now. they all fell, one by one. The last one was a Death Gazer yet didn’t stand a chance; I have gained a lot of confidence in the few hours I have spent inside of these walls. I still haven’t seen a sign of emotion on Arlon’s face whenever I looked at him. He’s either focused or frozen.
The next fight is one of a higher class. I have defeated quite some fighters that were much stronger than I was, but none that were high enough to beat me. This one might make a difference, though, because winning this fight means I will be a finalist. The word taste funny in my mouth. Finalist. Are you hearing this? I am winning this fucking tournament.
My legs are tired and my body wears quite some cuts, but I have come prepared. My sweaty hands hold onto a simple, light-blue sword. Someone had put it outside of my door, without a card or anything. I don’t know why I assumed it came from Nymeria, or Nerys, but I did. There was some sort of pride in her eyes when she told me goodbye, as if to show me that she respects what I am doing.
The doors open up for a whole new version of me. One that holds onto a blade with confidence and wears his boots with pride. I want to win this match. I have put my fear aside to win this match. The opponent in front of me holds onto a weapon I wish to hold, too. The big blades are connected by a cord, and to impress the crowd, she swings them around a few times. She obviously has some strong moves. Her feet look ready, too. When the signal sounds through the arena, I immediately check if she’s a Death Gazer. I feel some of my confidence sink into the ground when I feel her resistance. She blocks the small attack I had planned from the start. I have to rely on my sword now, it seems. It makes me nervous. I have underestimated the upper most class. I have underestimated the end because I was blind. I bite on my lip and jump aside to avoid her blade. Her gaze is fierce and her eyes don’t seem to look down to see what my legs want to do. she is focused on my eyes, instead. At first I wonder how that works, but it hits me when I fall onto the floor. She focuses on where I look, to know where to strike. Ah. Smart.
I throw my sword forward before her blades can hit me, and they make a sound io wish to forget. My ears fail for just a split second, eyes staring into hers as I push back. I grit my teeth and use all the strength I have to push through her resistance. It helps for a second or two. I can feel the bones in her right leg give in for just a moment. It gives me an opening to roll away and stand back up. I have not lost yet. I can still win this. The sword is heavy in my hands yet I lift it up. I have learned exactly three fucking moves with this thing. That is all I’ve got. I’ve got to lean on three. Fucking. Moves. That and an ability that can only break someone’s resistance for a second or two. It sounds like a lost cause, but I’m not going to give up. I’d rather be knocked out in front of him than give up.
“You’ve got quite the moves, pretty boy!”
The nickname gets to me. Everyone around here seems to call me that, and it’s getting me frustrated. I can accept it from Connie, or from any of my friends, but the people outside of that small group.. ah. Those really get me. I am more than that.
“Why does everyone keep calling me that?” I attack without thinking, sword striking forward. Of course, she avoids it like a fucking plague. She’s been doing this for years, for all I know. She gets what she needs to do, unlike me. I have learned the bare minimum in the fights I have fought. There is basically no fucking chance of winning against this woman.
“I mean it!” Her cord is tangled around my sword in a split second. The blades are close to my face yet I do not dare to falter.
“They should fear you.” She’s close enough for me to smell her breath.
Her words give me strength and I push on with a yell leaving my mouth. I will not fucking falter. I push hard enough for her to lose her balance. She refuses to give up on her resistance, though, and so I can’t do anything else but keep my distance. I need to catch my breath, and my eyes desperately need to look up at Arlon.
There she is.
Nerys.
She’s whispering something inside of his ear, and it makes him look away. He isn’t looking anymore. He isn’t watching me. I feel a foot against my back and something hitting the back of my head, and before I know it, I am on the ground. My hands sink into the mud as I try to open my eyes. My ears are ringing and my throat is dry. I am tired, and he isn’t looking. I cough out my own blood, eyes finally able to open up. I’m glad to feel that I can still move, even though my head hurts like hell. My fall had gotten his attention. He’s looking down at me, and so is Nerys.
I see emotions, now.
He is worried about me. He’s not even in his fucking seat anymore. No. He stands up straight with his hands bawled into fists. I let out a chuckle and roll away before another blow can knock me out. “So tough!” It hasn’t been all too long. I have to beg my muscles to work with me. I will beg. I can’t give up. He is worried about me. He. Is. worried.
I stand up and even avoid another attack.
I am invincible.
“Come on! You don’t look well!” She is a fighter who intimidates her opponent. That is clear now. She does not intimidate me, though. Not anymore. I feel nothing but pride. Arlon worries. He fucking worries!
I miss her when I strike with my sword, her body doing something close to a flip. It is in this moment that I am able to take control over her bones. She couldn’t get her resistance in check; she wasn’t focused on me. I’ve got her.
She falls on her back with a soft cough, weapon falling beside her. I try my hardest to get through her remaining resistance. The control travels up from her legs to her waist to her stomach. It rises and rises and even gets a hold of her fingers right before she is able to pull her weapon towards her.
I don’t want to admit it out loud, but I believe it was the moon who helped me. I felt her presence pressing into my back. It was odd, but I know it has to do with the ritual. I had become worthy of her trust, and so she helps me.
My opponent gasps when she feels the control around her neck. One move and it is over. I have only read about this move, and Connie has told some stories about it. if a Death Gazer gets control over the bones in your neck, you will most likely die. It will only take a few seconds before you run out of air. It feels nice to have a life inside of my hands. If I just wait a little longer- if I just keep the grip around her-
I let go when she closes her eyes.
I am no killer.
But I am, once again, a fucking winner.