Zeva pushed into the fighters' waiting room, dragging her fingers through her hair to smooth out the knots, her expression calm—completely unconcerned with what had just happened in the arena.
"Did you have to go that far?" Bryanard's voice cut across the room before she could even take two steps inside. His arms were folded tight across his chest, his gaze narrowing into something halfway between disappointment and disbelief.
Zeva shrugged without hesitation. "Maybe I could've held back a bit more, but he'll be fine. He paid for the Healing Springs."
"A bit more?" Amos cut in, his tone sharp with disbelief. He leaned forward a step, his eyes wide as if he couldn't believe what he'd seen. "You stabbed him through the foot! Cut off his fingers—and then his arm! How in the hell is that holding back at all?" His voice carried more astonishment than anger, like he was trying to process it out loud.
Zeva rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, as if his words barely registered. "I'm a swordswoman. He was a knight in full plate. What exactly did you want me to do—tap him with the flat of my blade? Smash him with the hilt? That's not how it works." Her tone was flat, as though his objection wasn't worth the effort.
"I know I'm not exactly the best example here," Mae said, lifting a hand lazily from where she leaned against the wall, her voice even, "but you really should hold back way more, or you will end up killing someone." She didn't sound like she particularly cared one way or the other—it was advice for the sake of saying it, not out of concern.
"Yeah," Lexy added, lifting her finger like she was giving a lecture. "If the medics hadn't gotten there as fast as they did, there's a good chance he would've bled out." Then her smile widened, proud, almost smug. "And I would know. I've killed a lot of people." She seemed almost delighted with herself, as if it was an accomplishment to brag about.
Zeva's arms tightened across her chest, her expression sharpening. "But he didn't, because I knew the medics would get there in time." Her tone cut sharper now, defensive, her voice rising just slightly. "Don't act like I lost control—I didn't. I haven't done this to anyone else because I knew the risks. I've been holding back when I needed to, stopping when I needed to. This time, I fought the way I was meant to. And now everyone wants to act like I'm some monster for it? For one match where I actually fought the way I should?" Her posture grew stiff, her voice carrying the edge of emotion, the faint crack of someone who hated being judged for doing what came naturally.
"Let's all calm down here," Xain said, stepping forward to stand between her and the others. His presence steadied the room, his voice level, meant to cool the tension rather than ignite it. He looked at her first, then at the others. "A lot of us were just shocked, that's all. The way you fought in your earlier matches gave everyone certain expectations. But at the end of the day—you're a swordswoman. That's how you fight. And if you're forced to hold back just to make everyone else comfortable, then it's not fair to you." His gaze swept the group now, his tone firm. "Seriously, you can't expect her to hold herself back constantly and risk losing because of it. That isn't right."
The waiting room went quiet. Everyone's eyes shifted between one another, the line drawn but unspoken.
Mae was the first to move, a smirk tugging at her lips as she pushed herself off the wall and walked over to stand beside Xain. "Well, I'm with him on whatever he says, I'll take his side. He's right. You all are being unfair."
"Yeah," Edluar added, moving to stand with them as well, his tone calm but certain. "You can't expect us to always hold back just because of how we fight."
Ulrich gave a short shrug and joined them without a word, his stance making it clear enough. Hittag, Annabel, Vilak, and finally Lexy followed suit—though Lexy seemed less interested in sides and more entertained by the whole thing, drifting over with a cheerful smile.
On the opposite end, Bryanard, Amos, Callum, and Gurion stayed firm. Their arms were crossed, their stares turned away, but their position was obvious—they weren't letting go of the stance that Zeva had gone too far.
Zeva's expression softened slightly as she looked at Xain. "Thanks, Xain," Her usual sharpness dulled into something faintly warmer. "And, I wouldn't have done anything like that to you if you'd won."
Xain rubbed at the back of his neck, his expression awkward as a small chuckle slipped out. "I would hope not."
Mae wasted no time breaking the moment. With a sudden grin, she swung her arm around Edluar's shoulders and pulled him close, her tone playful and teasing. "Oh~! Are you planning on joining us? We could always use more members."
Edluar froze, blinking rapidly, confusion written all over his face. "Wait—what? What are you talking about?"
Mae gave him a playful shake, leaning in closer with a sly look. "You know what I'm talking about. You know… with Xain."
Edluar shrank a little under her words, his voice dropping to a mutter. "I don't know what you're talking about. Please let go of me."
Xain looked equally lost, his brows knitting as if he had no idea what Mae was even implying. Zeva raised a hand casually, cutting through the exchange with her own smirk. "I'll pass. Maybe later, if he keeps it up. But for now? The current tournament is enough for me right now."
"Alright then, we'll keep you in mind," Mae said, returning the smirk as if she'd won something. Xain, on the other hand, looked completely and utterly lost.