Buhrama vs Yvonne

The next match was Buhrama versus Yvonne.

Buhrama stood on his side of the arena, a small but wiry figure. 

His stature was short—almost comically so—but his presence was anything but. 

His most striking feature was the bright lemon-colored Mohawk that spiked from his head, the tips of his hair crackling with an electric energy. 

The sword in his hand looked almost too large for him, but his grip was firm, and his confidence unshakable. 

Buhrama wasn't just a skilled swordsman—he had the power to generate lightning with his hands.

Across from him stood Yvonne, tall and slim, her movements as fluid as water. 

Her dark hair was cut in a sharp bob, the strands framing her face in stark contrast to the intensity in her eyes. 

She wielded two swords with a grace that suggested years of practice, her stance calm, detached even, as though she were already disinterested in the outcome.