Athena hovered in the air above, high above Tycondrius, her shoulder-length hair rising and fanning out as if she was underwater. The icy-blue radiance from the mana gathered in her palms outshone and drowned out the arena's surrounding lights.
Empty niiiiiight. Memories of Tycon's past began flashing through his mind... trying to comprehend how exactly he got into this situation.
"⌈IIIIIIICE BEAAAAAMUUUU!!!!⌋"
Tycon threw himself out of the way of the concentrated beam, rolling roughly on the ground. Standing and pumping his arms with alacrity, if not grace, he ran counter-clockwise in the limited space he had.
Athena landed in a kneeling crouch, frozen stalagmites jutting out from the earth around her. Reaching her left arm up and clenching her fist, the ice formations burst. Her four Arcanite blades shot towards him... as well as a torrent of icy shrapnel.
Tycon felt a cold sweat dripping down his forehead and back.
He was battered by the ice, thankful for the protection provided by his Arcanite armor and full helmet. The pain was substantial, however, the real threat he was wary of were Athena's swords. The young lady could control them from a distance, as they had frost mana crystals embedded where their hilts would be.
...Tycon had ordered them made that way, a decision he was deeply regretting.
He swayed his body to avoid the two inner swords, barely slipped the third, and deflected the fourth downward with his Adamantine scabbard. Reaching his gauntleted hand out, he pulled that sword out of the frosty dirt, gripping it tightly.
The other three blades spiraled upwards around him, then simultaneously halted and turned inward, one aimed to pierce him in the chest, and two behind.
Sharply aware of the danger to his life, Tycon felt a sudden, ironic pride, that his young student had grown so powerful. However... it made him curse his choice of remaining in the Holy Country.
He used the Arcanite blade to deflect the first attack, his sheathed sword to deflect a second, then fell clumsily to the ground to dodge the third. Sighing loudly, he activated his ⌈Tumble⌋ skill to roll backward to avoid being pierced by all three.
The blades flew back to Athena, who spun around and reset her stance.
"Draw your weapon, Sir Tycon! I don't wanna hurt you!"
"Young lady," Tycon stood up, dusting himself off, "I have determined that to be a lie."
Athena growled as she waved a palm towards him, then shifted her body forward while raising it. Her swords shot forward in a line, cutting into the earth... flinging up dirt and debris and effectively blinding him, "Take this! Sand-attack!"
Seven gods-damned hells!!! How much did he need to apologize to get her to forgive him for that?!
Tycon shut his eyes... Thankfully, training with Garock had prepared him for fighting without vision or tremorsense to a combat-plausible degree.
He dodged. He deflected.
He heard Athena yell, "⌈Frostblade!⌋"
...He cursed the seven hells and the eleven heavens.
He dodged and deflected more Arcanite blade strikes. He cowered and leapt away from seven-fulm long, exploding, frost swords. He crawled out of the cloud of dust and dirt until he could no longer-- finding the edge of the glowstone arena.
Tanamar was crouching down, meeting his eyes, "You... you gonna be okay, Tycon?"
pαпdα-ňᴏνê|·сóМ "I'm not quite sure," Tycon groaned, quite annoyed.
Tanamar's eyes drifted up, towards the starry sky, "Watch for the ⌈Icicle Fall⌋."
"My thanks," Tycon curled up and rolled backward, reactivating ⌈Tumble⌋ to avoid the massive falling and shattering icicles Athena had summoned.
Back in the mist, he continued to suffer light plinks and heavy ponks of ice fragments against his helm and armor.
He couldn't see... and it was cold.
And then... Athena appeared.
She was fast... Her fists struck against his chest armor, the shock thankfully dispersing throughout his body. Tycon didn't think it would bruise, but it was still terribly uncomfortable.
Too fast for him to block, the flat of one of her Arcanite blades smashed into his side, sending him tumbling into the rocky dirt.
With his off-hand, he thrust his fingers into the ground, digging a line in the dirt to ensure he wasn't launched out of the ring...
His body hurt. His fingers were numb.
The inside of his mouth tasted metallic. Either he had internal bleeding or he bit his tongue-- hopefully the latter.
He stood up... feeling old, tired... and moderately humiliated.
All in all... he was f*cking miserable.
"Y... you've improved," Tycon forced a smile underneath his helmet.
Athena emerged from the dissipating mists, "I'm holding back. Draw your sword."
The girl's mana-control was deathly precise... but in exchange, she consciously limited her power. It showed.
Tycon raised his arms, pushing his chest forward with bravado, "Make me."
In a flash, Athena was in front of him, her blades poised to strike at the space underneath his helmet... all four through his neck, "Draw. your. sword. Sir..."
"...Shite," Tycon cursed.
It didn't feel good having his bluff called.
"I will not," He declared.
"Then..." Athena's eyes flashed whitish-blue with mana, "Submit."
He paused and caught his breath to ensure his voice did not shake...
"I will not," He repeated.
Athena grit her teeth, "You're... you're really good, Sir Tycon."
"Thank you."
"I can definitely take you out of the ring... but I might really hurt you... especially if you don't draw your weapon."
She noticed. Clever girl.
"I'm not drawing my sword, young lady," Tycon shook his head.
"You can't kill all those people, Sir Tycon," Athena grimaced, her face twisted as if she were going to cry, "That's a lot of snake cultists in Caeruleum-- I understand that! But there're so many innocent people, too!"
"The option is in front of you," Tycon gulped... and hoped the whelpling didn't hear it... "Defeat me. Lead my armies to your satisfaction."
"All I have to do..." Athena steeled her gaze, "is take you out of the ring. Then you'll have to listen to me."
"Correct. However..." Tycon tilted his head, "can you do so without critically injuring or killing me?"
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