The second round began.
But something had already shifted.
Duryodhana stepped forward again.
Same ground.
Same opponent.
But a different approach.
The signal was given.
The opponent attacked first—
Fast.
Sharp.
Direct.
But this time—
Duryodhana did not block.
He did not resist.
He moved.
A slight shift of stance.
A subtle turn of the body.
The strike passed—
Not stopped—
But redirected.
A small change.
But enough.
The rhythm broke.
The opponent hesitated—
Just for a heartbeat.
And that heartbeat—
Was enough.
Duryodhana stepped forward.
His mace moved—
Not with raw force.
Not with brute strength.
But with timing.
Precision.
The strike landed cleanly.
The round ended.
Silence followed.
Then—
Murmurs rippled through the students.
"He changed…"
"That wasn't blocking…"
Duryodhana stood still.
Breathing steady.
His chest rising, falling.
Heart calm.
Mind clear.
He understood now.
Not fully.
But enough to move forward.
From the side—
