one-to-one

Riya's demeanor doesn't change, still exuding that infuriating air of nonchalance. She slowly holds up both her hands in a showy pose, fingers gracefully arching. "I see. You're not lying," she muses aloud.

I raise an eyebrow at her, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words. Tsk, fuck. That gleam in her eyes is all too familiar to someone like me. So she's the type that's addicted to improving, huh? Always searching for a challenge, always wanting to test her boundaries. Dammit, what a hassle.

With a touch of exasperation, I sigh, "Miss Riya. Please refrain from making a stupid decision." I try to infuse as much sternness into my voice as possible, attempting to deter any brash decisions on her part.

But instead of being deterred, her crimson eyes, striking and deep, slightly widen with an unmistakable glint of excitement. Under the silvery glow of the moonlight, they're even more arresting, if that's possible. She clenches her fists, the manabinders still firmly in place, and says with an intensity that nearly startles me, "I will test you."

Ugh, words won't get through to this girl, will they? I can't help the resigned thought that crosses my mind. With every fiber of my being, I wish for some divine intervention to derail her from this course of action, but the universe doesn't seem to be on my side tonight.

Attempting to keep the situation light, I retort with a slight chuckle, Are we really doing this? Right here, right now? I mean, "There's a festival going on. People are singing, dancing, and generally having a good time. And here we are," Two grown-ass people, "about to... what? Have a martial arts showdown?"

Riya just smirks, the moonlight accentuating the sharp contours of her face. "I have no interest in that festival."

I click my tongue, feeling the increasing weight of the situation. I need an escape route — one where she won't catch up to me. An overt confrontation isn't ideal, especially given my role tonight.

But as I scan my surroundings, my focus is suddenly arrested by Riya. She closes her eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. Her shoulders rise and fall, and I can almost feel the palpable shift in energy around her. When she opens her eyes, they're cold, devoid of any playfulness from earlier. She's locked in. Before I can react, she's charging at me with a speed that's frankly astonishing.

Shit, dammit she's fast!

My instincts kick in, and I barely manage to raise my fists in time to block her first strike. The force of the impact sends me skidding back a couple dozen feet. My shoes scrape across the ground, and even though I land on my feet, I feel the sheer power behind her attack.

My suit, designed to absorb kinetic energy, emits a slight glow wherever her fists land. Each punch, each hit, gets absorbed, dissipating some of the impact. Still, I can't rely solely on my suit; I need to use my martial arts skills.

Riya doesn't let up, her movements a fluid dance of precision and power. Her kick aims for my side, but I twist my torso, narrowly dodging it. As I evade, I counter with a straight punch, aimed directly at her face. She leans back, her hair whipping through the air, avoiding my punch by mere inches.

She's back in my space immediately, throwing a series of rapid jabs. I block and deflect, relying on my strength and the protective benefits of my suit. While she's faster, I have the advantage in raw power. Our strikes echo in the night, creating a rhythmic beat of physical prowess.

Our dance continues — a high kick from her which I parry, followed by a low sweep aimed at my legs. I hop over it, landing with grace, and attempt a spinning elbow. She ducks, coming up with an uppercut. My suit lights up as I block it, the kinetic energy creating a vibrant glow.

Both of us, locked in this battle of skill, remain silent. Our actions speak louder than words. It's clear I'm only fighting out of necessity, whereas she's pushing to test limits.

Riya's next move catches me off guard. She lunges, going low, and I anticipate another leg sweep. Instead, she launches herself into the air, aiming a flying kick at my chest. I cross my arms, bracing for impact. The blow connects, and I'm sent skidding back once again. Damn, that one was different.

But I refuse to be on the defensive for too long. I change my strategy, incorporating more offensive moves. A roundhouse kick here, a chop there. Yet, for every move I make, Riya counters, her serious gaze never leaving mine.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The festival grounds are a cacophony of lights, sounds, and merriment. To one side, a massive stage is set up, flanked by rows upon rows of wooden benches and stands, quickly filling up with eager spectators. Torches illuminate the stage in a warm, orange glow, contrasting with the cooler tones of the magical light orbs that hover above the audience, bathing them in a soft blue luminescence.

The stage itself is crafted of polished oak, the center marked with intricate patterns representing the different grades participating in tonight's event. Around the main arena, banners flutter, showcasing the insignias of various clubs and groups.

A palpable air of anticipation fills the night as students, teachers, and martial enthusiasts gather, eagerly discussing predictions and favorites. The murmurs grow in volume, the crowd's excitement manifesting in restless shuffling, shouts, and cheers.

Suddenly, a figure leaps onto the stage, drawing everyone's attention. It's Verdan, a well-known member of the student council, and tonight's referee. His suit is an intriguing sight - a kaleidoscope of colors and patterns that seems to be a blend of traditional martial attire and avant-garde fashion. His vibrant ensemble is accentuated by a swirling cape and a tall hat adorned with feathers of exotic birds.

"Ladies and gentlemen, warriors, and scholars!" Verdan's voice booms across the festival grounds, his tone theatrical and captivating. "Welcome to this year's Grand Swordsmen Duel Event! And let's not forget our swordswomen!" he adds with a wink, earning a round of laughter from the audience.

He paces across the stage with flamboyant flair, his cape billowing dramatically behind him. "Firstly, this competition is about pure technique!" He emphasizes, pointing his finger skyward. "No magic, no aura, no special skills, and no attributes! This is a true testament to a swordsman's — and swordswoman's — core ability!"

He begins to circle the stage, addressing different sections of the crowd. "Safety, as always, is paramount. While we want a show, we don't want any grievous injuries. So, all participants have been thoroughly assessed and paired accordingly to ensure thrilling yet safe duels."

Coming to a halt, Verdan dramatically sweeps his arm across the audience. Drawing his own gleaming sword with a flourish, he slices at the air. A breathtaking hue of colors burst forth, encircling the audience like a mesmerizing aurora borealis. The display is nothing short of magical, eliciting gasps of wonder from the crowd.

"Now, esteemed guests," Verdan declares, his voice filled with pride and excitement, "prepare yourselves for a night of breathtaking swordplay and unmatched skill. May the best swordsman — or swordswoman — prevail!"

The crowd erupts into a cacophony of cheers and applause, the excitement in the air thick and contagious. The stage is set, and the duels are about to begin.

Verdan takes a few strides towards the center of the stage, the torches casting dancing shadows upon his vibrant attire. He claps his hands together, drawing even more attention from the already riveted crowd.

"Now, before we dive into the main event, I have an exhilarating announcement to make!" he exclaims, a sly grin forming on his lips. The audience leans in, curiosity evident in their expressions. "Given the overwhelming number of talented applicants this year, we've decided to spice things up a bit for our intra-grade duels!"

A ripple of murmurs spreads through the crowd. Intra-grade duels were nothing new, but with Verdan's tone suggesting a twist, the anticipation is palpable.

He continues, "While only one from each grade will get the honor to challenge a different grade, we thought, why not make the selection process itself a spectacle to behold?"

He pauses for dramatic effect, letting the audience's curiosity build even further. "So here's the catch!" he announces. "In each of these preliminary duels, a random environmental effect will be activated on the stage. Both participants will have to not only face each other but also navigate through these unpredictable challenges!"

The crowd gasps in surprise. Environmental effects could range from anything like slippery floors, gusting winds, blinding lights, or even shifting terrains. It was an element that tested not only the participants' swordsmanship but also their adaptability and strategy.

Verdan waves a hand, and an ornate box appears on stage. "This magical box contains tokens representing each effect. Participants will draw a token before their duel, and whatever challenge the token holds will manifest on this very stage."

Whispers and excited conversations break out among the audience. The idea of unpredictable challenges added a new layer of excitement to the already thrilling duels.

"Without further ado, let's commence our first intra-grade duel!" Verdan's voice booms with enthusiasm. "Please welcome our first participants — Zara of the student council and Lorian from the Kuza's sword theory and magic application club!"

The two participants make their way to the stage amidst applause and shouts of encouragement. Zara, with her raven-black hair and piercing blue eyes, stands confidently, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. Opposite her, Lorian, a tall figure with a mane of dark blue hair, cracks his knuckles and gives Zara a respectful nod.

Both approach the magical box, and Zara draws a token. Holding it up, it shimmers and reveals an image of swirling winds.

A gust picks up, gradually increasing in strength, and within moments, the stage is transformed into a mini-tornado. The audience gasps, the element of unpredictability taking hold.

Zara and Lorian take their starting positions, eyes locked onto each other, ready to navigate not only their opponent's blade but the environmental challenge as well.

Verdan, grinning widely at the success of the twist, calls out, "Let the duel begin!" And with that, the night of thrilling swordplay continues.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

-Lysandra's POV

Ah, this fucker runs like a damn rat! I should've expected no less from someone of his ilk. Zigzagging through the throngs of festival goers, he displays an uncanny knack for maneuvering around them. It's like they part for him, but for me? It's like trying to run upstream in a torrential river. Every so often he'd turn, smirk plastered on his annoying face, and I swear, I could almost hear him cackling in glee. Asshole.

He's good, I'll give him that. But so am I. And I'm not about to let some sneaky weasel outsmart me. I swear to the heavens! Once I catch him, I'm going to give him the beating of his life! 

"Fuck this," I mutter, growing tired of this game of cat and mouse. With a burst of energy, I push off the ground and leap onto the nearest building. The sudden elevation gives me a panoramic view of the festival – a sprawling landscape of lights, laughter, and life. But among this beautiful chaos, one thing stands out: the path of Kaleidos.

With the vantage point the rooftops provide, I'm easily able to keep pace. Each jump, each landing feels rhythmic and precise, like a dance. But my focus is singular - on that fleeting figure who thinks he can escape me.

And then, as if someone above is listening to my inner tirade, he makes a break from the festival, taking a sharp turn down a darkened alleyway. My heart leaps in anticipation. "Gotcha now, moron," I grin, my feet propelling me towards the edge of the building. I ready myself for the descent.

But just as I'm about to make my move, I'm interrupted. Two security personnel appear from the shadows, badges gleaming, blocking my path. Their faces, stern and resolute, seem to convey one message: "Stop."

"Stop right there! Reveal yourself! Take off that mask!" one of them barks, his hand inching towards what looks like a weapon.

Ugh, humans and their love for theatrics. Rolling my eyes, I make a split-second decision. Instead of taking a detour, I rush forward. With my hand aflame, I strike, sending them hurtling against the wall. The element of surprise is on my side, and they're down in seconds. Pathetic. It's laughable how easy humans are to handle when they're caught off-guard.

A groan comes from behind, signaling that they're getting back up. But I don't have time to deal with them further. Kaleidos has a head start, and I need to close that gap. Picking up the pace, I continue my pursuit.