"Finally, a fistfight," Jeff announced above as Nia rode the tingling mana platform down to the arena.
The rim of her long skirt fluttering in the still air of the arena, she listened to the lizardman, who was afraid of her powers, respond. "They both use weapons."
"Semantics," the man with the funnily tall hair waved off.
"No, not semantics. The difference between choices of weapon is big enough to give birth to sayings," Dra insisted.
"All I am saying is that I look forward to a melee instead of these constant mage battles," Jeff defended his position.
"Then just say that," the lizardman shook his head and took a sip of ginger ale.
If Nia had anything to say about it, this fight wouldn't be particularly long. The fighting style she had been taught was to grasp at victory as soon as it was available.