As he watched Tre'yan do his thing, Cho noticed something.

Both fighters were doing the exact same thing.

Wounded. Reeling.

Playing a game of defensive chicken.

Either a knife swipe or a punch would end it.

One single hit.

At this distance, Cho didn't need smarts to know that Tre'yan wanted to lure him in. As much as the afterimages and split-second feints were impressive and all, he could recognise a defense when he saw one. Like when enemy soldiers put up smoke screens and waited for their attackers to enter before dropping them with well-aimed shots.

He knew that he wasn't fully back yet. His inner ear was still busy knitting itself back together. A few more minutes.

Then again, neither was Tre'yan. His single wound on his left arm had incapacitated the whole limb.

But here's the advantage Tre'yan had: bound by the stipulations of the duel he had the upper hand. A trained, well-armed boxer, even with a single arm, could out punch even the most trained soldier. Out fight? He wasn't so sure about that. All Cho had was a knife and his wits.

Play defense. If he isn't going to bite, neither would he.

He backed up a few paces, keeping the distance open between them. It would take at least three strides to approach him at this rate. At a slow pace, he circled the boxer, all the while keeping Barr brandished out in front of him. Slowly he let his knife arm seep into shadow; the darkness leaking black right out of his pores. It did nothing special, just for added effect when he swung his arm around, which he did with gusto, slow, easy swings, not even close to hitting the boxer.

Here chicken chicken chicken chicken

Who's going to bite first?