Tournament 3

The arena buzzed with anticipation as Sara stepped into the ring, her famous lightning blade catching the sunlight. She moved with the fluid grace of a master swordswoman, each step precise and measured. Her silver hair danced in the wind as she took her position, hand resting casually on her sword hilt.

"Look at her stance!" someone shouted from the crowd. "She's not messing around today!"

"That rookie's about to learn what real speed looks like!"

Across from her, Vell shuffled into the arena with his now-familiar awkward gait. His cheap sword hung loosely at his side, and his armor looked even more worn than yesterday.

Sara raised an eyebrow at his appearance. "You should have quit while you were ahead, rookie. Yesterday's luck won't save you from my blade."

"Ah... maybe," he scratched his head, looking nervous. "But I'll try my best!"

Laughter rippled through the crowd at his response. Even Sara's lips twitched in amusement.