NOVEL NEXT Ch 2.82: Split
Elaina could hardly believe it, but she really was keeping track of Prisma’s moves. Even though they didn’t seem as unreadably fast though, Prisma was still tougher this time, unconcerned with her own modesty and focused on the swordplay between them. They traded attacks and defense, a seemingly even bought to any outside observers.
Elaina knew that wasn’t really true, though. Prisma was being cautious, showing more respect towards Elaina’s abilities, but she wasn’t in danger. It was all Elaina could hope for to stay in the match, barely having enough time to throw out a few half-hearted counters in the times when Prisma knew she was just about to press too far, the times when she was most ready for them.
Except Prisma was always ready for them. She’d said Elaina had gotten one cheap point and one “real” point, but Elaina was pretty sure that wasn’t the case. Prisma hadn’t expected the second one because she’d still been underestimating Elaina, but that obviously wouldn’t happen again.
Elaina really didn’t know how she did it. Prisma’s eyes were always forward, always locked on to Elaina’s even while Elaina’s were wildly dancing, chasing the swords, looking for her next opening. Anything Elaina did Prisma saw out of the corner of her eye, and her level of focus was so far ahead that it was enough to dominate the fight.
But could Elaina turn that focus against her? She vaguely remembered a word of advice about fencing, words she hadn’t been interested in hearing at the time but that stuck with her nonetheless. “You’re too predictable,” she’d been told. With Prisma’s seemingly inhuman ability to focus on Elaina’s eyes, that would only be amplified.
So, be less predictable. That still probably wouldn’t be enough she knew, but it was a start. She couldn’t stare Prisma straight on and track the sword at the same time, so she’d need something else too, some other edge. But even just trying to keep her movements ambiguous was a task, one that easily left her on the backfoot, being pushed towards the edge of the stage. She was reminded of their first day fencing together, how dominant Prisma had been that she could ring Elaina out in merely seconds just by advancing. If Elaina kept up this pace, it’d be a repeat of that.
But that wasn’t the only thing Elaina remembered about that day. There was one chance, a gamble for sure, one that Prisma might be ready for, might not be. It was also arguably a trick, a gimmick, but it wasn’t exactly one Prisma would be able to complain about either.
And so Elaina let herself get pushed back, mindful of the distance, careful not to go too far. But even knowing she was getting pushed towards the edge it happened so fast. She couldn’t exactly look behind her to check the stage length—might as well throw her sword down at that point—so she knew she had to act fast.
Less predictable, she thought. Prisma was tracking her eye movements, predicting every strike she’d make. Elaina made a quick bat at Prisma’s sword, not enough to disarm her, but more forceful than a standard block. Step one, done. Step two was simple, look someone she wasn’t going to strike, somewhere that could hold her eyesight well enough to not betray her true intentions. Prisma’s bare boobs? Yeah, that’ll do.
Eyes distracted by that glorious sight, Elaina moved on to step three: falling. More specifically, falling with style. She let her legs spread apart, sliding into a split that she was mostly certain she could do. She’d never been able to before, but her class made her stronger, so why not more flexible?
It worked, her falling to the ground as Prisma watched, dumbfounded as she swung another desperate swing. Elaina was ready for that, able to parry with ease thanks to Prisma’s rapidly sinking target. And that was all Elaina could do, really. Eyes still locked on to Prisma’s perfect chest, she swung her sword, and Prisma brought hers up to block.
Prisma was left holding her sword in front of her nipples like it was a bad attempt to preserve her modesty as Elaina’s struck the girl’s knee.
“Mirage, your winner: Elaina Weaver.” Shein said, as Elaina stood up to the roaring crowd. Prisma remained where she was, still staring at her sword.
“You’re the better fencer; I just got lucky,” Elaina said as she covered up with her hands. It was true, she knew.
“The better is the one who wins,” Prisma said, letting her body slump and handing the sword over to a bouncer that came to grab it.
“Go find my friends,” Elaina said, pulling her own gaze away from Prisma. “They’ll keep you safe until they give you your clothes back at the end of the night.”
“Right. The end of the night…” Prisma looked lost, wasn’t even covering herself up, just staring off into space.
“Win for me?” she finally said, turning back to Elaina. “I don’t know why you want that crystal so bad, but I could tell you do.”
For a moment, they were alone again, just the two of them. “I’m going to get it, one way or another.”
“Good…”
“Prisma! Over here!”
The shouting shook both of them out of whatever state their minds were lost in as they turned to see Flora waving her hands off to the side of the crowd.
“I’ll be going,” Prisma said, finally covering herself and hurrying off stage. “Good luck!”
“Will number fifty please come up to the stage?” Elaina heard Shein say.
“Number fifty?” Elaina asked.
“The winner cards,” Shein said, taking the microphone away from her face and rubbing at her eyes. “They’re numbered up to fifty. Up to a hundred, actually, but there were only fifty winners.”
“Fifty,” Elaina said, heart beginning to sink. I have to fight fifty people to win.