Solace saw her platinum eyes as he entered the arena, a mischievous grin on her face; she stood straight as a sword.
"Long time? What are you talking about? You literally visited me at the medical bay yesterday." Solace planted his feet.
"True! But we didn't talk much, and we haven't had a proper conversation in a while," she said.
"Well," Solace replied dryly, "you were the one who took off with Nolan afterward."
Her grin widened dangerously so.
"Oh?" she said. "Jealous?"
"I'm suspicious," Solace corrected. "Big difference. And since we're on that topic, what exactly are you and Nolan up to? Because whatever it is, it smells fishy."
Solace had guessed what that was about; he couldn't know what they were cooking up. But still, he figured it must be related to the suspected gang.
She laughed softly, the sound carrying easily across the arena despite the crowd. "You're sharp. But no." She wagged a finger. "I'm not giving that away for free."
Solace narrowed his eyes. "Figures."
She took a step forward, boots crunching softly against stone. "Then how about a trade?"
He didn't answer.
Her gaze sharpened. "That thing you used. Against Aeon and yesterday again against Kang."
She smiled sweetly. "Tell me about that, and I'll tell you what Nolan and I are doing."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Solace said flatly, "No."
Solace could tell her about it, but he didn't know about his own powers enough to tell. Besides, it's good to have at least one trump card hidden.
Her eyebrows lifted. "Straight refusal? Not even pretending to consider it?"
"That ability is off the table," he said. "End of discussion."
She watched him for a moment longer, then shrugged. "Fair enough."
She paused, then added, smirking, "How about this instead?"
"If you defeat me in this round," she said, voice carrying just enough to tease the crowd, "I'll tell you everything."
Solace blinked.
Then he smiled.
A slow, sharp smile that mirrored hers.
"That was going to happen anyway," he said. "Now I just have more motivation."
Her grin turned feral. She held her blade straight.
"Oh, good," she said. "Then let's not waste time."
The host signaled the start, and the match began.
Solace immediately sprang into action. His sword technique had improved alot than when he was transmigrated; it was the same for his footwork. During the previous five to six months, he had improved a lot. His reflexes, his movement, and his thinking were elevated to a level where he could go toe to toe with a lot of low-layered priests in the church.
He didn't immediately use his Threads; he wanted to test his pure sword skills against Phoebe. It's been a long time since they sparred together.
And by the looks of it, Phoebe had the same idea.
Solace closed the distance with a burst of speed, his boots scuffing the arena floor as he aimed a testing diagonal slash at her shoulder. It was faster than he used to be, but Phoebe didn't even blink. She didn't retreat; she simply pivoted on her back foot, her blade coming up to meet his sword with a dismissive clink.
She redirected his momentum, letting his heavy swing slide harmlessly past her silk-clad hip.
"Too wide," she teased, her voice cutting through the ringing steel. "You're fighting like a brute, Solace."
"And you're fighting like a statue," he retorted, grinning as he used the momentum of his missed strike to spin into a low sweep.
Phoebe hopped over the blade with infuriating grace, landing as light as a feather.
She riposted instantly. It was a simple thrust.
Solace had to scramble. He threw his body backward, his spine arching in a way that looked painful, barely avoiding the tip of her blade. He rolled away, coming up in a crouch, panting slightly.
Phoebe stood there, her sword arm extended, her posture perfect. She looked like an illustration from a textbook on warfare, impeccable, deadly, and utterly arrogant.
She advanced this time.
If Solace's attacks were a storm, erratic, gusty, and forceful, Phoebe's were a metronome. Click-click-click. She struck with rhythm. A thrust to the left, a slash to the right, a feint to the knee. She wasn't trying to overwhelm him with power; she was dissecting him with precision.
Solace was on the back foot, his sword moving frantically to keep up. He blocked a strike to his head, the impact shuddering down his arm, only to find her blade already retreating and coming back for his ribs.
He gritted his teeth, his mind racing. She's better. Technically, she was leagues ahead. Every time he tried to find an opening, she had already closed it. Every time he tried to bait her, she saw through it.
But she's predictable, he thought. Perfect, but predictable.
Phoebe lunged for a classic high-guard breaker. Solace didn't block. Instead, he stepped into her guard, risking a hit to get close. He jammed the hilt of his sword against her blade, locking their weapons together in a shower of sparks.
For a moment, they were nose-to-nose, the metal grinding between them.
"Gotcha," Solace breathed, sweat dripping down his temple.
Phoebe raised an eyebrow, her face unbothered, her breathing even. "Do you?"
She dropped her center of gravity and twisted her wrist. It was a subtle, high-level maneuver, a disarming lever. Solace felt his grip loosen and had to jerk his hand back to keep his weapon, breaking the lock and stumbling backward.
Phoebe didn't pursue. She just stood there, twirling her sword in a lazy figure-eight.
"You have improved," she admitted, her tone sounding like a teacher grading a decent essay.
Solace chuckled, shaking out his stinging wrist. "Certainly I did."
She smirked, pointing her blade at him. "Are you done warming up? Or do I need to embarrass you a little more?"
Solace straightened his back, the playful sarcasm remaining in his voice, but his eyes sharpened. The warm-up was over. He had felt the gap in their swordsmanship—it was wide, but not unbridgeable. But if he stayed in a contest of pure skill, she would pick him apart piece by piece.
"No more embarrassment today, thanks," Solace said, his essence beginning to flare, invisible but palpable. "I think it's time we made this a little more... colorful."
Phoebe's smile widened, genuine excitement cracking her haughty mask.
"Finally," she whispered.