Chapter 92 - Telegraphing Every Move
Dainor's gaze swept across the two fighters, ensuring they were both prepared. His raised hand lingered in the air for a moment before he called out in a firm voice, "Round one, start!"
Lua lunged forward with an incredible burst of speed. Bao's eyes widened as she barely had time to register the movement. "So fast." She thought. She instinctively swung her wooden short sword in response, but Lua didn't evade—she redirected.
With perfect precision, Lua tilted one of her daggers and let Bao's blade slide across its flat edge, completely nullifying the attack. Before Bao could recover, Lua was already moving, thrusting her second dagger straight for Bao's face.
Bao twisted her head at the last second, feeling the dagger graze the side of her neck. A sharp sting followed, but before she could think about it, "One." Dainor's voice echoed through the room, acknowledging the first strike.
Bao barely had time to process that before she found an opening. Lua's forward movement had left her exposed. Her stomach was completely open now.
She swung her blade in a quick arc, aiming to land a clean hit across Lua's side. Victory was within reach.
But then she felt a solid thud in her stomach.
Her breath caught in her throat. Pain. A dull, forceful impact spread across her abdomen, knocking the wind out of her. She coughed, eyes darting downward to see Lua's second dagger already pressed against her gut.
Her own weapon was still a few inches away from connecting.
If this had been a real fight... she would have lost right there.
Dainor's voice rang out. "Very well. Lua is the winner of the first round."
Bao took a step back, clutching her stomach where she had been struck. The wooden blade hadn't cut, but the sheer force of the impact made it feel like a real wound. She gritted her teeth. Even though it was training, the loss stung. She had been careless.
Dainor's sharp gaze settled on her. "Get back to your position," he instructed.
Bao took a steadying breath and nodded. But before she could fully prepare herself, she heard him again. "Get ready."
She frowned, straightening. "Wait—no rest?"
Dainor crossed his arms. "Do you think in real combat, your opponent would wait for you to recover?"
Bao's jaw tightened, but she said nothing. She simply took her stance. If that's how it was going to be, she had no choice but to accept it.
Dainor's hand raised once more. "Second round, start!"
This time, Bao didn't rush in. She adjusted her approach, taking a defensive stance as Lua approached her. No sudden strikes. No reckless movement. She would read her opponent and strike at the right moment.
Lua, seeing the change in tactic, smirked slightly and closed the distance once again, this time testing Bao with a quick slash.
Bao blocked efficiently, her wooden short sword meeting Lua's dagger with a solid clack. Then Lua thrust forward, but Bao had anticipated it.
Bao shifted her weight, twisting her body just enough to let the dagger narrowly miss her torso. She countered immediately, slashing downward toward Lua's exposed side.
Her short sword sliced through the air. There's no way she can block that, but at the last possible second, Lua flipped her dagger into a reverse grip, raising the hilt to catch Bao's blade against its handle. The impact stopped Bao's strike completely.
Bao's eyes widened in disbelief. Before she could recover, Lua sidestepped to the left in a blur of movement and struck twice in rapid succession—one across Bao's ribs, the other against her stomach.
Dainor's voice came again, calm and absolute. "Lua is the winner of round two."
Bao let out a breath through clenched teeth. Damn it.
Dainor raised his hand once more, signaling the next round.
Bao exhaled sharply, flexing her fingers around the grip of her short sword. She couldn't lose this round. She had to win at least one round.
Her stance was tighter now, frustration driving her focus. Lua stood across from her, calm, her daggers resting lightly in her hands. She wasn't winded, wasn't worried. She was waiting.
Dainor's hand dropped. "Round three, start!"
Bao lunged forward, this time taking the offensive. She closed the gap fast, knowing she had to use her weapon's longer reach before Lua could slip inside and tear her apart. She swung first, keeping distance, forcing Lua to defend.
Lua raised one of her daggers, catching Bao's short sword cleanly. But this time, Bao was ready for the counterattack.
She disengaged before Lua could strike back, stepping away just enough to keep herself safe.
But just as Bao reset her stance, Lua did something unexpected.
Instead of aiming for the torso, like she had done in the previous rounds, she flicked her dagger downward, straight for Bao's wrist.
Bao's eyes widened. She pulled back instinctively, avoiding the direct hit—but Lua wasn't aiming to cut.
With a sharp collision, Lua's dagger clashed against Bao's short sword, jerking her weapon hand upward.
Bao barely had time to react before Lua followed up with a brutal, precise slash across her wrist.
Pain shot through Bao's arm, her grip failed, and before she could process it—her sword hit the floor. She was unarmed.
Her body tensed, her mind screamed at her to move, but Lua was already inside her defense.
A sharp impact struck her across the torso. Lua's second dagger.
Dainor's voice rang out. "The winner of round three and the entire sparring is Lua."
Bao stood frozen, her breath shallow. Her hand trembled from the hit, a dull ache spreading through her wrist where the dagger had struck. Even though they were wooden weapons, the pain was real.
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But more than the pain, more than the numbness in her fingers, the loss burned. Not once had she managed to land a hit.
She clenched her jaw, swallowing her frustration as Lua stepped forward, sliding her daggers into their sheaths.
"You're really good," Lua said, offering her hand. "I was much worse when I came here than you. I'm certain you won't regret your decision to join."
Bao hesitated, her fingers twitching at her side. She wanted to be gracious. She wanted to be a good sport. But it stung.
Still, she bit her lip, forced herself to nod, and shook Lua's hand.
Dainor approached, his sharp eyes moving between them. "These were good matches. But both of you still have a lot to learn."
Bao exhaled sharply, still gripping her sore wrist. "Yeah. No kidding," she muttered.
Dainor looked directly at her, his expression unreadable. "We put a lot of emphasis on self-analysis in this facility. What do you think was the reason you lost?"
Bao tensed. "Isn't it obvious?" she said, voice sharper than intended. "Lua was faster than me. Stronger. She had better reflexes and more control."
Dainor shook his head. "No," he said simply. "You're stating the obvious. But that's not why you lost."
Bao frowned. "Then what is it?"
Dainor crossed his arms. "There were times in my past when I defeated opponents faster and stronger than me. And I wasn't the only one. Many warriors have done the same. Speed and strength alone don't determine a fight."
He turned to Lua. "What do you think? Why did she lose?"
Lua pondered for a moment, then said thoughtfully, "She couldn't recover from a miss fast enough?"
Dainor nodded. "That's part of it. But why did she miss in the first place?"
Before Lua could answer, a voice from behind them cut through the room.
"Because your movements were too predictable." Everyone turned, it was Padrin who stood watching them.
"She saw what you were going to do before you even did it," he continued. "Your swings were too wide. Every attack telegraphed itself. That made it too easy to punish you."
Dainor nodded. "Exactly."
His gaze returned to Bao, unreadable but firm. "You were telegraphing your every move. Your attacks were obvious. Your opponent could read you like a book."
Bao's fingers curled into a fist. She had felt it during the fight—the moments Lua had countered before she could even finish her swing.
She had been broadcasting every attack. And that was why she lost.
Dainor's voice softened slightly, but remained firm. "This will be the first thing you need to work on."
Bao exhaled, nodding slowly.