Chapter 207 207: Remontada

"It's 3–2 for Rodova! Leo Skyshard pulls one back for his team!" Derek shouted, nearly out of his seat.

"To be honest, I didn't see much of anything he did here," Lee added, shaking his head with a stunned expression. "Just like the majority of the crowd. But judging by how terrified Mikhail looked by the end of it... it must've been something damn impressive."

"Impressive is putting it lightly, Lee," Derek replied. "He dismantled a Grandmaster-level fighter without a scratch on him. That's almost unheard of for a finals match."

"Yeah, I don't think anyone expected this sort of dominance from the youngsters…. But it looks like Rodova's first years are better than their seniors, so even if Rodova doesn't win the cup this year, I'm sure they will be happy to know that they have absolute superstars at their hands for the next year" Lee muttered, as the Rodova section roared at the top of their lungs, cheering Leo on.

But before their adrenaline could settle, the next fighter stepped out from Geneva's bench.

And the cheers turned into murmurs of confusion.

"Wait a second…" Derek said. "That's—"

"Damien. Damien the Tank," Lee confirmed, frowning. "He already fought in the second match and suffered a slight bruised ankle, but Geneva's sending him back out?"

"Interesting choice," Derek murmured. "They've still got a fresh Grandmasters left in Darnell, but instead, they're sending Damien out once again."

"It's smart, actually," Lee said after a pause. "Leo just breezed past his first opponent easily, if you throw Darnell at him now and he wins again, Geneva would be under real pressure.

However, by sending in Damien—Captain Ramos ensures that he will be forced to burn more energy, and drain his stamina…"

"And then even if Damien loses," Derek finished, "Leo won't walk away from that fight unscathed and will be a sitting duck for the next fighter.

Geneva's not trying to win it all in the next fight—they're ensuring that they do in the next two."

"Exactly," Lee nodded. "They're playing the long game. Let Damien soften him up. Let him drag Leo through the sand. And then, when he's bleeding, tired, and exposed... drop Geneva's finisher on him."

"It's a solid strategy….With no-one to rely on the bench, Leo is facing an uphill battle from here on out for sure."

—-----------

Meanwhile, on the battlefield, Damien rolled his shoulders, cracked his knuckles, and let out a deep exhale as he stomped toward the center again—his massive shield in hand, his gait slower, as he limped because of the ankle injury he received while facing Minerva.

Across from him, Leo stood with both daggers drawn, body loose and eyes locked, as he observed every movement Damien made.

'His weight's still shifting to the right. The limp isn't feigned. Mobility's compromised… but his upper body looks solid. If he plants his feet, he turns into a fortress.' Leo assessed coldly.

Normally, he would've treated a limp like that as bait—a lure to draw him in. But in this case, he'd seen Minerva's arrow sink into Damien's shin with his own eyes.

So for now, he trusted it was real.

And he planned to exploit it.

"Both fighters ready?"

"Begin!"

The referee's voice cracked across the arena—and Leo moved.

Not explosively. But rather with a relaxed jog, as he closed down the distance between himself and Damien at once.

"Jogging to your own death boy? How interesting—" Damien taunted, as Leo suddenly picked up speed and surged forward, before leaping slightly towards the left, as Damien reacted instantly to the danger.

He raised his shield and squared his stance, bringing his body to the ready, expecting a full-speed charge.

'So he wants to trade early,' Damien thought, tightening his core, already preparing to counter with a backhand bash the moment Leo entered his radius.

But Leo didn't enter.

Instead, he stopped mid-run and angled his lunge toward Damien's rear leg—the injured one, as he completely changed his direction at the last second, before exploding forward with such insane speed that Damien's shield couldn't follow him there, not fast enough.

'Shit—he's targeting the limp!' Damien realized, as he twisted his hips to adjust while also swinging the edge of the shield back to intercept—but Leo was already out of his range by then.

*Shing—*

A dagger slashed across the back of Damien's exposed calf, as although the cut wasn't deep, it was clean and re-opened a painful wound that had barely stopped bleeding just moments ago.

"Gah–"

Damien grunted and stomped down hard, trying to pivot into a counterstrike, but his weight transfer lagged—the injured ankle buckling under pressure.

'He's baiting movement I can't physically match. That bastard's not just fast—he's calculated—' Damien realized at this moment, as he saw Leo already backing away in a diagonal retreat to avoid the shield's range, circling again without ever turning his back.

"You think this is how you win, Skyshard?" he growled.

"By poking and dancing like a coward?" he asked in agitation, as Leo refused to respond.

Instead, he simply moved again.

This time he feinted left—causing Damien to shift his weight and pivot his shield in anticipation—before vanishing behind that momentum and darting right.

Mid-movement, Leo drew his elbow back and raked his dagger across Damien's right tricep, dragging the blade just enough to draw blood before pushing off and springing away again.

*CLANG—!*

Damien slammed his shield into the space Leo had just vacated—a quarter second too slow.

As the crowd started to catch on now.

"I don't think Skyshard is even trying to land a big cut here!" Lee said. " I think he knows it's too dangerous to do that, so he's just harassing Damien instead with these surgical jabs, before retreating out of range—"

"He's matadoring him, Lee," Derek replied.

"Death by a thousand cuts. He knows he can't overpower Damien's defense—so he's breaking the body around it." Derek added, as that's exactly what Leo did for the next 30 minutes, as he slowly but methodically accumulated slashes on Damien's body, one after another, with none being too big, however, after getting hit by a hundred of them, the cumulative damage was significant.

"Stop dancing like a monkey and fight me properly—" Damien shouted in agitation as Leo pulled away from him after delivering yet another shallow cut to his arm, which while stung slightly, did not hurt him in any meaningful fashion at all.

However, Leo paid no heed to Damien's rant.

He knew that what he was doing was the best way to slowly whittle down a tank.

And while it wasn't the most glamorous way to fight, nor the most crowd-pleasing—it was still extremely effective.

By fighting this way, he was straining his own stamina reserves big-time—yes—but in return, he was rendering Damien's entire offence-kit useless.

The tank-class came with its trade-offs: and while it had high defence and stability, their offensive abilities weren't designed for speedy duels— as they were built to punish opponents who got caught in their bulky charges.

However, it was impossible for Leo to fall for such a trick.

He was simply too nimble and sharp to be hit by a skill like [Shield Advance] or [Bulwark Crash] and Captain Ramos knew this as well.

Damien was in a way the worst match-up for Geneva to send against Leo, however, they were never counting on him to win, and always only counting on him to tire Leo out, which he was doing wonderfully, by surviving as long as he did without moving, while his opponent was constantly on the hunt at his top speed.

'Hold on Damien…. Tire him out more so that I can come and finish him next round and take all the glory—' Ramos prayed from the stands, as although he maintained a straight expression on his face, internally he prayed for Damien's downfall as much as any Rodova fan.