Tanker lunged, his massive sword whistling through the air, aiming to cleave Bianca in half. Bianca, fueled by desperation, rolled out of the way, stabbing him across his back leg as she pulled her sword free. Tanker roared, bringing his blade down in a descending strike, but she was already moving, sidestepping the blow and thrusting her sword deep into his stomach. Tanker's eyes widened in genuine shock, a rare flicker of surprise crossing his face.
"I'm gonna fucking kill you!" Tanker snarled, stretching his un-palmed arm towards her to strike. Bianca stumbled backward, pulling her sword from his stomach, the wound already beginning to close.
"Do you give up?!" Azreal's voice boomed from the chamber, raw with paternal fear.
Tanker merely smiled, his teeth stained red with his own blood. "Hell no! Let's try a different approach."
Bianca, her energy rapidly draining, frantically searched for an opening, a new way to fight. With a renewed surge of defiance, she charged, plunging her sword through his shoulder. Tanker allowed it, not even flinching. Bianca stared in disbelief. (He could have dodged that if he wanted to, or at least hardened. He didn't. Something's up.) She tried to slide her sword out, but before she could, Tanker's muscles rippled, hardening his body around the blade, trapping it firmly within him. He head-butted her sharply on the nose, sending her staggering backward. Bianca collapsed to the ground, pain exploding behind her eyes.
Tanker pulled her sword from his shoulder, his eyes glinting with a dangerous amusement. "You really thought I would let you keep stabbing me? And now, I'll make sure you know pain beyond imaginable." He drew his own massive sword, holding both weapons, a terrifying silhouette against the arena lights.
Azreal watched in horror. In the pavilion, Rider, overcome by fear and desperation, tried to leap from his seat, running towards the ring to stop Tanker. Aingo held him back, his grip firm, forcing Rider to remain a helpless spectator. All Rider could do was shout Bianca's name, his voice hoarse with anguish. Azreal, his face contorted in agony, was about to call off the match once more, his hand already rising to make the gesture.
But then, Bianca's voice rang out, a raw, tearful scream that cut through the silence. "I can't lose! I don't want to!" she cried, tears streaming down her bruised and bloody face.
Tanker paused, a flicker of confusion on his face. "How do you keep fighting no matter the amount of pain you go through? Do you really want to be the Sword Master so badly?" he asked, his tone betraying a rare hint of genuine curiosity.
The arena fell quiet, the tension thick enough to choke. Then, Bianca's voice, though weak, resonated with a newfound clarity, cutting through the stunned silence. "I don't give a shit about being Sword Master!" she screamed, her gaze, impossibly, fixed on Rider. "It's for Rider!"
The crowd turned as one, their gazes shifting to Rider, who flushed with embarrassment, then profound emotion.
"I want to clear obstacles for him," Bianca continued, her voice gaining strength, "so I can meet him in the final round! I forfeit!" Her words hung in the air, a shocking declaration. "Giving Rider the win and making him fulfill his dream! I'm doing this solely for him! I promised I'd help him out, and I'm not stopping until Rider becomes the Sword Master! Do you hear me?!"
Rider pressed his lips together, fighting back tears, his chest aching with a complex mix of emotions. Aingo, watching Bianca, his initial stoicism replaced by a look of profound understanding, whispered, "I guess I was wrong about her. We shared the same vision, and I acted like she didn't exist. I'm a fool."
At that moment, a loud bell rang, signaling the end of the match. Azreal, his face a mask of complex emotions, stared down at Bianca with a deep frown. He had called it off. Tanker had won the match.
Bianca looked around, her eyes wide with a confusion that momentarily eclipsed her pain. She couldn't believe what had happened. The crowd, though shocked by her words and her subsequent defeat, silently understood Azreal's decision.
Tanker, however, slowly dropped his swords. He looked at Bianca, who could barely stand, her body a testament to his brutality. A strange expression crossed his face, a flicker of something akin to remorse. He felt like a monster after hearing her reason. "You know," he said, his voice surprisingly soft, "you remind me of my wife. I hope you can forgive me, warrior."
Tears welled in Bianca's eyes, mixing with the blood and grime on her face. Her defiance finally ebbed, and with a last, shuddering breath, she passed out, her body finally succumbing to the pain.