From Cracked Open Skies - A World in Fluctuation

Chapter 13 - Second Rondo, ??? Smile

The dawntime air cracked and popped as Mirelle’s right fist snapped out, three whip-like movements that would have sent Roless reeling if any of them struck their mark. But he weaved and bobbed, darting away with the irregularity of a hummingbird, before absorbing the final strike with his right forearm. A dull, meaty impact resounded, but the iron fist had been deflected, momentarily sending the knight off balance, veering off to the side.

However, while he could recognize that moment’s worth of instability, Mirelle recovered before he could react. Spinning clockwise, her foot lashed out like a snake, the same roundhouse kick that had crushed Roless during their first training session. He allowed himself a single ‘tch’ at the missed opportunity, before crossing his arms and bending his legs.

Another impact resounded heavily, jarring, but not breaking his stance. He had caught her leg in the fork made by his arms, grimacing as his feet ground against the dirt.

Without pause, he forced her leg upwards, his coiled legs springing in an attempt to flip her over.

That too was an underestimation on his part, as Mirelle went with the flow of his throw, somersaulting through the air. Landing elegantly on her toes, she bounced forward once more, her left knee leading her assault.

Ah. He could recognize her own openings, but still couldn’t see that he was open as well, huh?

His legs were fully extended, offering no strength.

His arms were raised upwards, opening up his entire body.

But to hell with that!

Roless jumped back with all his strength, curling his body inwards. Like the jaws of a beast, his elbows and knees slammed together, locking Mirelle’s knee in place just long enough that he was sent rolling onto the grass field without the strike having met its mark.

The young man tumbled a good dozen meters, his clothing marred by grass streaks and mud stains, but his body still not damaged. Picking himself up and raising his fists once more, he readied himself just in time as Mirelle closed the distance a second time. Her eyes were ignited, a lightning afterglow trailing her eyes as she slid within.

It was exciting. He hadn’t yet survived this long without running away, and going into new territory…

Well, it was as good as any other time to start a frontal assault.

Right fist to right fist.

Left fist to left fist.

Swings smacking apart jabs.

Jabs bouncing aside swings.

Knuckles growing red, then white.

Eyes wide open, even as sweat stung them.

A vicious, lively smile carved onto his face.

An exchange of blows at close-range, neither side unwilling to take the step back necessary for an effective kick.

And then, two meters apart, Mirelle disappeared.

It was an instantaneous diagonal motion that evaded Roless’s two swings, as she danced beside, past, and finally, behind him.

Before he could turn around fully, she placed a single, gentle palm on his side, a smile of approval upon her face for the first time.

“I win.”

At a distance of zero, the entirety of her bodily strength flowed into the palm of her hands, as the third impact of the day broke the tranquility of a weekday dawn. Roless flew through the air, rolled on the ground, and finally, groaning silently at the heavy blow, laid down, limbs spread outwards. It was defeat, but he too was smiling.