Arena 3. The space was empty, silent. Stone seats ringed the sandy fighting ground, rising in tiers. Weapon racks neatly lined the wall.
Ryan stretched, rolling his shoulders. "Should we spar? I want to try what I've learned."
James shook his head. "Ryan, I'm sorry but I'm itching for a… real fight. Let me and Jared go first, then I'll help you work on your form after. Deal?"
Ryan tried not to feel stung. "Sure. I'll watch."
"You'll learn more from watching anyway," Jared said. "See what proper technique looks like."
James and Jared moved to the center of the arena, wooden swords in hand.
They squared off.
No warning.
James lunged.
Jared sidestepped, blade coming up to deflect. The crack of wood on wood echoed through the empty arena.
Woah, these two are bloody quick!
James pressed forward, aggressive, each strike heavy and committed. Jared circled, defensive, footwork precise. He blocked, deflected, waited.
"Woohoo! Go James!" Ryan called out like a cheerleader.
