Thomas made his way to the dirt runway, making it there before his opponent. As he stepped onto the fine dirt, he slid his armnet over his head. Thomas looked like a well-decorated, shiny tank at this point. He closed the visor to his armnet, and place his hand on the hilt of Harmony, awaiting his opponent to make his own way down to the arena. Thomas hated this armor, especially when it came to fighting on foot with it. Light Fighting was based on dodging and counter-strikes, but in this armor he'd have to focus more on standing and taking hits. Thomas couldn't afford to be dodging around in this suit of armor, it would tire him out far too quickly, and a tired fighter is a losing fighter. Thomas gazed at the stands, through the small slit of his helmet, gazing over the audience that was here to watch him either succeed, or fail. Thomas readied himself as the trumpets once again sounded, and he changed his gaze to his opponent. Thomas brought his sword to his chest, holding it with both hands, waiting to see how his opponent would start out.