Valeria Olarion (6)
Valeria froze as the cold edge of Lucavion's estoc hovered just inches from her neck. The sharp steel glinted in the fading light, its presence undeniable. Neither of them was out of breath; they hadn't used mana, and both had fought with the precision of seasoned warriors. Yet, despite her skill and her best efforts, it was clear—she had lost.
The chill of the blade lingered against her skin, a reminder of her defeat. She swallowed hard, her pride stinging as Lucavion's calm expression remained unchanged. With a measured motion, he withdrew his estoc, the blade sliding back into its sheath with a soft click. His smile deepened, but there was no smugness in it—only that same, unsettling calm.
Valeria, her face flushed with a mixture of frustration and acknowledgment, straightened. "It's over," she murmured, her voice tinged with reluctant acceptance. She knew she had been bested. Her blade may have been flawless in technique, but it had not been enough.