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I hopped on the spot and warmed up my joints, rolled my neck, and made it pop.
The siren wailed for a second time — declaring the fight had begun.
The young sleejak, as expected, launched himself at me, his fists and feet a blur.
I danced back and maintained my distance.
He would slow down eventually, tire himself out… but by how well he was moving, I didn’t think that would happen any time soon…
I blocked one blow, a second, a third… And got struck with his fourth, a pile driver of a punch into my chest that winded me and sent me stumbling back.
The young sleejak grinned and pressed his advantage. But as he swung his leg around to catch my head, I swept down low, avoiding his blow and took out the leg he was standing on.
I rolled to fall on top of him, but he had already kicked himself back and onto his feet. He nodded appreciatively and slowed his attack.
I went on the defense again.
His blows were fast but not strong. He intended to knock me off balance so he could hammer me with a flurry of blows… but that wasn’t going to happen. I knew what to expect, and you were not surprised by things you knew were going to happen.
The crowd grew bored with my constant defense and booed. The young sleejak glanced at our audience, clearly affected by it.
He turned to me. “You have to fight me!” he snapped.
“I’m in the pit with you, aren’t I?” I said.
“You have to throw a punch! Wrestle me! Do something!”
“Why would I do that?”
The young sleejak blinked as if seeing me for the first time. “You’re not trying to please the crowd?”
“I’m here to win my Prize,” I said. “I couldn’t care less what the crowd, you, or anyone else thinks.”
The young sleejak growled and tightened the muscles of his jaw. “Then if you won’t play up to them. I’ll do it for you!”
And he launched himself at me, hurling one flurry of blows after another. Some connected but they had little effect — he was too busy trying to look good in front of those watching.
I watched carefully — just as carefully as he listened to the cheers and boos — and waited for my time to strike.
He was fit and lasted a lot longer than I thought he would, but it took a lot more energy to throw a punch or a kick than it did to block one, and slowly, little by little, he grew tired and slow.
He lashed out with another kick — this one striking my elbow. He hissed in pain and set his foot down…
And that’s when I struck.
I hurled one fist after another at him — not as fast as the young sleejak’s had been — but fast enough. My blows packed a much larger punch — literally — and knocked the young sleejak back, making him stumble and lose his footing.
He looked up at me, shocked, that I had landed a successful blow. His brow curled into anger and he flew at me once again, using up what little reserves he had remaining.
And once again, I waited for my opening and attacked. First, with a fist, then a kick, taking out his knee, and then a roundhouse that knocked him back on his ass.
He struggled to get up as his arms were so sore from all the punching. I climbed on top of him, pinned him down, and bellowed:
“Yield!”
The crowd had grown silent and my voice was loud and powerful.
At the prospect of losing face, the young sleejak refused and instead attempted to fight back.
