𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀, luke castellan

ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ

Clash of Titans.

⚡

   THE HERMES CABIN ERUPTED IN AN EXCITED CHATTER, anticipating what was sure to be a longer and potentially more intense fight between two of the most experienced demigods at camp. Excited murmurs filled the air, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter and the shuffling of feet. As the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation, Percy noticed Rory's lack of a weapon.

   "Aren't you going to get your sword?" He asked her in confusion.

   Rory, undeterred, shot him a smirk. "I've got my own," she replied casually, offering a nonchalant shrug. With a theatrical flair, she extended her hand as though holding an invisible sword. Her seemingly empty grasp was suddenly filled with a shimmering hilt, its radiant glow casting a brilliant white light. As if by magic, the hilt slowly transformed, its form shifting and twisting until it took on the shape of a sword made entirely of pure light. The blade hummed with energy. Percy could only stand in dumbfounded silence, his mouth agape in wonder.

   "Showoff," Luke muttered under his breath, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement, raising an eyebrow as he raised his own weapon.

   The clash of their swords reverberated in the arena, a cacophony of metal meeting metal. Rory darted forward, her strikes swift and precise, each one aimed with deadly accuracy.

    Luke countered with practiced swings, each blow infused with the raw power of his experience. His movements were deliberate, the mark of a seasoned warrior.

    Attempting a flashy maneuver, Luke found himself parried by Rory's quick reflexes. He retaliated, but she blocked before allowing her sword to phase right through his own. He stumbled slightly at the abrupt shift in balance. But they had been training so long together that he knew all of her tricks and likewise, gaining his balance almost just as quickly as he had lost it.

    Rory seized the offensive, launching a rapid flurry of attacks. Luke remained steadfast, countering each blow with calculated precision.

    Their blades clashed in a symphony of steel. Neither of them faltered, matching each move step for step. Each swing of the sword was blocked, each step countered. No blade ever made contact with flesh. They twirled around; their concentration far too focused to feel dizzy. Rory felt herself growing tired, but Luke's moves had slowed as well getting more sloppy.

    He made the first mistake. He lunged forward. Too quickly. Too widely. His foot skid. Sliding just a bit further than he meant too. Most people wouldn't have even spared the misstep a second look, too focused on avoiding his blade. But Rory was not most people. Luke felt a surge of a quick panic as his balance was thrown off ever so slightly. His forward momentum disrupted, his swing lost some of its power and accuracy, leaving him momentarily vulnerable.

    Rory pounced on the opportunity. Her blade grazed his side. However, before she could press her advantage, Luke recovered with remarkable speed, deflecting her next strike.

    The entire arena seemed to be holding its breath. Not a single camper spoke, too entranced with their movements, their quick blows. Their swift counters. Their expertly parried feints.

    It soon became clear that neither of them could gain the upper hand. Despite their best efforts, neither could land anything more than a slight graze, far from being a decisive blow.

    Finally, their blades collided, creating a deadlock. Feeling the standstill, Luke relented with a grin. "Tie?"

    Agreeing with a smile, Rory gracefully disengaged, her brow soaked with sweat as she stepped back from him. He lowered his sword, breathing heavily from the exertion. Rory thought that if they had continued Luke would have eventually beaten her, but after the multiple fights with Percy, he had been worn out, providing her with the slight edge she needed to end the fight in a draw.