The answer had been there all the time, but Noble had been too blind in her determination to see it. The only way to conquer the Saint was to fight fire with fire.
'And what better way to learn her method than by doing it.'
Noble disengaged, taking a deep breath to refocus her attention.
The cadence of the battle shifted. Instead of trying to break Syrce's defense, she studied what made it work.
The next strikes were fiercer than before but more experimental. Noble's actions prompted Syrce's reactions, and Roan's attacks were met with a wall of steel.
The Saint's carefree attitude and playful banter would have led most to believe that she wasn't taking the match seriously, but Noble could feel the other woman's emotions.
More than that, she could see the intensity in Syrce's eyes.
Those eyes tracked her while they monitored Roan. His quick movements were less fluid than Noble's and easier to see in her peripheral vision. His steps and the movement of his armor were louder, too. Syrce relied on all her senses in battle, and it honed her instincts and reaction time.
After a couple of passes, Noble began to mimic her opponent's movement when she could, searching desperately for the rhythm and rhyme to Syrce's chaotic actions.
At first, the actions seemed to be merely a lucky chain of events.
But then…
The pattern began to form. The ever-so-subtle emotional spike before a block, the directional movement of Syrce's eyes before she jogged to the side, the tension in her muscles just before she let her sword fly–Piece by piece, the puzzle fell into place.
Just like her Saint Transformation could attack from many angles at once, Syrce was studying every direction, moving not only in three-dimensional space, but also using time as her ally. It was like she was not only looking at the battle in the moment, but she was able to see the fight as a whole in a single picture.
With each small change, Syrce altered course. Her actions made her look clairvoyant, but really, she was just playing the odds with tremendous skill. Noble had met an opponent like that once before. Only that opponent had not been quite so skilled with a blade.
Throwing off her usually militaristic precision, Child of Promise gave herself over to the task of peering into Syrce's method. Noble got lost in the movement, taking a couple of near misses from Syrce as a result.
There was a certain feeling that a warrior got in the heat of battle–a euphoria when a soldier finds their stride and leans into it with all their being.
Such was the case with Noble now. With each thrust and parry, she felt her mind clearing and her excitement mounting. This battle of the mind was a dangerous, thrilling game. Her heart and breathing began to move in time with her actions, and her body, soul, and mind became one.
Roan made a vertical slash, which Syrce sidestepped while blocking Noble's thrust. Syrce spun toward them, brandishing her blade, causing the pair to separate to avoid the hurricane of steel.
The dance looked like a ballet to the onlookers, but each step and movement had enough power behind it to fell any of the trees around them. It was a small miracle that not a single leaf had been harmed until this point.
The world seemed oblivious to the struggle. But the three locked in combat were anything but unaware. Their heightened senses and inhuman focus were pushed to the limit with each blink of an eye.
As Noble and Roan descended on the Saint for another set of onslaughts, Syrce's fluid mix of cuts, thrusts, and spins parried the Masters with the grace of a tightrope walker. As she leaned on her sword to kick Roan in the chest, Noble's eyes opened wide.
Then, the cloud of uncertainty cleared, and the picture of the battle was laid out before her.
'So that's how it is.'
Noble could play the odds like the Saint. They would remain in a gridlock for some time longer. But that tactic would only end in her defeat. Syrce was just too strong. As soon as Roan was eliminated, the chance of landing a hit on the Saint dwindled to zero.
The longer this went on, the more fatigued the Masters were becoming. While there was no essence exhaustion, the physical toll would take its course eventually.
The sooner she acted, the better.
Child of Promise could not play the odds. She had to beat them.
Moving swiftly, the floating Master pushed herself between Roan and Syrce. The man needed a moment to get his footing, and Noble needed to change the cadence of the match.
The protective move brought a smile to the Saint's face. "Oh?"
Noble smirked behind her visor. "Bring it."
'Why did you say that?' She immediately berated herself as the provoked Saint no longer held back.
The torrent of blows dented her armor as she protected her shoulders. Roan hurried to his feet, but not before a downward strike that caused the bones in Noble's left arm to crack.
Child of Promise screamed, not from pain, but from outrage. She wanted to be stronger. And she would be!
The failure of her body was just a setback.
She still had her mind and determination. The latter was not something that Syrce could ever slice with her blade. Switching her Zenith to one hand, Noble prepared for the final assault.
Defending against the Saint was no easy task to begin with, but with one hand, it was nearly impossible. Noble blocked a hit with her battered arm, barely deflecting the tip of the sword from her shoulder.
It was too close. She needed to act. It was now or never.
Noble yelled again with a ferocity that threatened to make her voice go hoarse. She raced forward, brandishing the Zenith with the heart of a champion.
One strike against Noble's side did not faze her, nor did the second. A third and fourth hit her legs, yet still she persisted. Noble avoided what she could and struck out whenever possible.
"I knew there was a lioness in you!" Syrce did not let up her assault.
"An apex predator? I like it!" Noble smiled fiercely, further drawing the Saint into the hunt.
The two fought ferociously, forgetting the world around them as they continued their deadly dance.
Noble could feel her body ready to give out. She had given it her all, but it would not be enough. So in a final effort, she ran at the woman and aimed for the Saint's shoulder.
But Syrce was ready for her. In a flawless motion, she pushed aside the sword and rammed Noble in the side. The floating Master went skidding along the grass, pain searing her soul.
Syrce followed after her, a solemn look on her face.
"Dear one, enough is enough. Let me put you out of your misery."
Reaching down with her sword, she tapped Noble on her good shoulder.
Child of Promise gasped, holding her arm as she sat up. "You called me a lioness, Syrce. We have those in my world, too. You know what is special about them?"
The Saint squinted.
"What's special," Noble rasped, "is simple. They never hunt alone..."