Snippet #2716702

At this point the arena had started to finally clear. While many men continued to fight it out across the field, far lest were present than had been there at the start. Some littered the floor, either dead or just knocked out, but many had left under their own power, figuring that the jackpot couldn't be worth the pain they had been going through. For Miralda, the thinning crowds were both a blessing and a curse. While it made actual combat easier, it also meant she could no longer hide herself in the throng. Which meant she was now facing down her final assailant head on with a weapon she didn't use.

The man before her sported a gladius and a legionnaire's shield. While such weapons were phased out of most armies around the world long ago, that did not make the weapons themselves any less deadly. And seeing as she was stuck wielding a glorified pitchfork she didn't really know how to use... She could certainly feel a certain sense of pressure.

She feinted a stab to grab the innitiative, and was rewarded with a momentary twitch of the shield to block a blow that would never come. She again feinted, this time to the outside of her enemies left, and he again bit, this time moving his shield a bit more wildly to try and recover in time. As the shield move, she spun right and whipped her trident at his sword hand. She slashed his wrist deeply enough to for him to drop his sword, but before she could capitalize on his lack of weapon, she felt something very solid smash into her side, sending her to the ground. She rolled to her side to recover as best she could, losing the trident. She scrambled around for a weapon then pushed herself to her feet, this time with a simple dagger. At least she knew how to use this one.

Across from her, the man had recovered his gladius, although he was wincing at trying to use his damaged wrist. While her side was aching in pain as well, she charged. Her opponent readied himself and, for the first time this melee, she found herself in a true clash of blades. Every attack she tried was deflected by either his sword or shield, and whenever he was ready to strike out himself, she was already gone, moving to attack at his side. The exchange when on for thirty full seconds, with him blocking and her dodging, until one of them finally made a mistake.

Perhaps calling it a mistake was a bit much, really. The legionnaire, just once, made a wince harder than normal, and Mira pounced. Not literally, of course, but she dropped down for a low kick the second the man's eyes closed, and before he could even begin to open them, he was already on the ground. Mira's dagger quickly made its way into his heart, and she pulled it out just as fast before jumping back, just in case the man had any last resorts.

She needn't have worried. The man clutched to his chest as his breathing got steadily worse, in too much pain to do anything but grasp at his last few moments of life. Miralda sighed heavily, relieved she no longer had to deal with people after her neck, then dodged away as soon as she heard a woosh of air from her side. If she were anywhere else, she would have started berating herself for her own air-headedness. Sure, no one was specifically after her any more, but this was still a fight to the finish with many other people. She readied her weapon once more, her fight was not over just yet.