Fatima stared unblinkingly at the arena. A flash of coldness showed in her eyes, but she immediately noticed Trion looking her way. She turned her head and met his gaze with a gentle smile.
Hesta and Kovishik's duel continued. To make the fight more entertaining, Hesta had deliberately gone easy on him for seven or eight moves. Just as she wondered whether she was making it too obvious, she suddenly sensed that Kovishik was growing bolder with every exchange—this series of entanglements seemed to have convinced him that he had inadvertently found Hesta's weakness, and he was beginning to gain the upper hand.
Hesta could not help letting out an amused snort. As if performing a magic trick, she tossed her cane into the air, switched hands, then gripped its end and slammed the front of its handle into Kovishik's face.
Kovishik let out a low, drawn-out howl, and his longsword clattered to the ground. He curled up on his knees, clutching his nose through the blinding pain. Blood seeped through his fingers and dripped onto the ground.
When he finally lowered his hand and looked up at Hesta, a vivid dark-red cane mark ran across his face, stretching from his upper left forehead all the way to his right cheek.
"I told you to wear a helmet," Hesta said, leaning on her cane as she stood leisurely before Kovishik. "You wouldn't listen."
Kovishik rose again in a fury. He could tell that his opponent had some real skill, but they had clearly been trading blows before. He felt that he and Hesta were evenly matched at their core; he had merely been a little less lucky and a little weaker on defense.
Eleven was the most excited person in the stands. She shouted encouragement for Hesta at the top