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Opposite me stood my opponent, a burly creature with gnarled skin and sharp tusks protruding from his lower jaw.
He snarled, beating his chest in a display of raw power.
I wasn’t intimidated.
In my heart, I held onto the memories of Grace, her strength and spirit fortifying me against any challenge.
The mix of adrenaline, sweat, and anticipation created a heady cocktail, spurring me on.
I felt alive, invigorated, and ready to face whatever the pits threw my way.
With a deep breath, I grounded myself, the grainy texture of the sand beneath my feet reminding me of the stakes.
This wasn’t just about winning a fight.
It was about proving to myself and to Grace that together we could overcome any obstacle, face any challenge, and emerge victorious.
With one last look at the sky, I thought of Grace and the dreamworld we’d come to cherish.
The weight of my sword felt comforting in my grasp, its familiar heft a testament to the battles I’d fought and the challenges I’d overcome.
Determined, with Grace’s unwavering spirit echoing in my heart, I readied myself for the fight.
And with a smile playing on my lips, drawing from her boundless strength and resilience, I charged into the pits.
* * *
The arena air was thick with anticipation.
Echoes of past duels reverberated throughout the pit.
The sun’s rays filtered in, casting a golden sheen on the battleground, illuminating particles of dust that floated lazily in the air.
As they settled on my skin, the gritty texture reminded me of how every element in this universe — from the minuscule to the vast — played a role in the theater of life.
Standing opposite me was a creature unlike any I had seen before.
Tall, even by Ikmal standards, his hide was a mixture of thick, armored scales and pulsing veins, giving him a mottled appearance.
Four large eyes, located on stalks, swiveled independently, scanning the environment.
Two of them fixed on me, studying, gauging.
Drawing a deep breath, I steadied myself.
The sensation grounded me as I gripped my weapon, feeling the sweat from my palms seep into the leather-bound handle.
We began to circle one another.
His movements were slow, deliberate, each step a calculated decision.
The ground vibrated beneath his weight, and the thud of his steps was almost rhythmic.
My ears picked up on that rhythm, and I began to anticipate his next move.
Suddenly, he lunged. The motion, while powerful, was cumbersome.
I could see the intention behind the move a second before it happened.
