Duellist was becoming sapped of his stamina quicker than Cadaoir, and his failed attacks against the Monk had worried his confidence. The Duellist''s attacks were now deployed without surety, Auryon not knowing whether they would hit or miss.


    After yielding, you should still have pride enough to stand on your own. Cadaoir sighed, kicked Auryon''s hand away, then left him there. He turned his back and left the ring. The Announcer was still doing his job as the Monk entered the stands to find his seat.


    That was harder than I''d have thought. Auryon the swordsman had put up a hard fight. Cadaoir was already reliving the duel, analysing the techniques, studying the feints and the timing of each chained attack from Auryon. Although he had lost the match, this other man was talented, and from what he had seen, the old man Jerry was even better. Auryon''s fault gave Cadaoir the edge, it gave him a weapon, but he did not take Jerry as the type to make that mistake. Cadaoir had studied each match, he had seen and learned from every win and loss of the other duellists. He had discovered Jerry''s flawlessness.


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    Perhaps...


    This man is something else. Cadaoir, for the first time, felt doubt.


    Jerry''s eyes locked to Cadaoir''s, and Cadaoir''s to Jerry''s. Cadaoir felt his body''s instinct to attack, but he hesitated in his mind. If I attack, he will counter and win. There is no doubt in my mind. Go left? Attempt to close the distance and attack his sword arm? He can quickly manoeuvre away and draw on me. Go right? Try and take control of his weapon before he can draw? He''s quick enough to draw his dagger instead, or lead me into some trap. If I try to attack him head on, I’ll be cut to ribbons. Cadaoir was struggling to find a way to win. The ring''s been cleared of the debris, so I can''t use that again. If I give him the initiative, I won''t be able to escape him, he easily cornered Wolf... His thoughts passed in under a second, but for Cadaoir it felt like hours of deliberation.


    Do not think. Thought is the absence of intuition and the presence of uncertainty.


    I''ve lost. This was Cadaoir''s one thought before the slither of silver appeared in his vision. Jerry had advanced with unmatched speed and his aim was to take Cadaoir''s head. No... Cadaoir could only raise a hand in defence.


    You weak fool. Cadaoir thought to himself as the Monk''s true class ability showed itself. A faint white glow was projected from his hand, his spirit given form as a protective barrier. The sword blade was stopped merely an inch away from his flesh, but it still fought to find blood. Weak! Then the power of the cut overtook him. I''m weak! There was a loud pop in his ears and then all he could hear were bells. The ring became distant to him, he saw the sky spinning to his right and the ground tumbling to his left. Then the world went white and then black.