Number 16 observed the savage brutality of Greg's actions, a deep frown etching across his masked features, his posture rigid as he stood motionless in the dust-choked courtyard.
He remained utterly still, his mind racing as he carefully weighed his dwindling chances of emerging victorious from this unexpected confrontation.
Considering the situation with thoughtful deliberation, he came to the grim realization that his odds of winning were far from certain, the scales tipping heavily against him in this unforgiving arena.
First and foremost, Greg proved to be an adversary he couldn't overpower with any real assurance, his movements too precise, his power too overwhelming, like an unstoppable force of nature.
And then there was Elizabeth, standing poised and vigilant nearby, her icy presence a clear signal that she was ready to lend her formidable support at a moment's notice, her slender sword still humming faintly with residual frost.
