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[center][@Rune_Alchemist][/center]


Watching Isana's fight against Argenta, Sherry noted that Isana's skills were much, much sharper than they should have been. And she was fighting dirty. Sherry knew it. They'd all come back, and Isana was no longer a mere student but a soldier. Several other Klaides members challenged Noble class students too. Sherry leaned forward with interest when Ophelia walked down to the center of the arena. She'd never paid the weak, sickly girl any mind. They never crossed paths later in life and even after Sherry's arrest, Ophelia wasn't one of the few who ever visited her half-sister.

She was stunned to silencewhen Ophelia pointed to her and called out her name. There was laughter. Sherry still had the reputation of a talented student, after all. This match, to most students, was an unfair foregone conclusion. But Sherry knew full well that she was out of practice. While the rest of her family were fighting, Sherry deserted her first battle without crossing swords with a single foe. She spent the remaining years of her past life in captivity of some form or other. 

Sherry wordlessly made her way down to the arena with a cold, determined look on her face, and pulled a longsword from the rack. Ophelia knew her half sister to be one to passive-aggressively gloat and never missed a chance to belittle others. But right now, Sherry was focused, and was taking Ophelia very seriously.

Ophelia wasn't sure what to make of Sherry's silence. She had expected some boastful words. Mockery. Something, and yet...there was nothing. Well, it didn't matter to her. She held no love for Sherry or whatever it was she was going through. She only had one thing on her mind. Victory.

"I expected derision or some sort of mockery." Ophelia walked over and picked up her own weapon. It wasn't her Estoc, but a Rapier would do just fine. "Instead, all I'm getting is silence." The up til now quiet, meek, and objectively timid girl turned to face her opponent, words laced with cold derision. "Whats the matter, sister? Where is all that confidence and boasting? Or are you scared this sick little girl is going to make everyone see how pathetic you actually are?" Ophelia testing the weight of her blade, satisfied with its performance as she'd point it towards Sherry. "Well, since you do seem to be scared...I guess I'll let you have the first strike."

An irritated grimace flash on Sherry's face for a brief moment. She didn't like being talked down to, insulted or ridiculed. Sherry didn't expect any of that to have come from Ophelia's mouth. Even if she was rusty, Sherry remembered how talented she used to be around this age. She should still be able to win this fight. Sherry grit her teeth and then charged. She decided to feel out Ophelia's skill with a thrusting weapon by slashing up at her diagonally.

Ophelia took a deep breath as Sherry approached. She hadnt fought Sherry before in her previous life. She had never a reason too, so she wasnt entirely used to her fighting style. What she could tell, though, is that she definitely wasnt as skilled as some demons, or hell, even as some of her peers. She had already braced herself by the time Sherry had made her first strike. Ophelia backstepped, deftly avoiding the simple slash. This was followed by a powerful thrust right towards Sherry midsection and was followed through by immediately going on the offensive, pressing forward and making a series of quick, precise thrusts at Sherry's shoulders and one aimed towards her neck.

Sherry just about managed to block the first thrust with muscle memory, and was being forced back by the subsequent attacks. Something was very off. Even if Sherry was more bark than bite, a Noble class student should be better than this. Her movements were fine, but there was no....sense of combat. The sudden thrust to a vital area caused Sherry to flinch, stumble backwards and just about catch herself from falling on her rear.

Sherry steeled herself. She could sense she was fighting a seasoned veteran of many fights. Meanwhile Sherry was still trying to climb up to the level of confidence and capability she had when she was nineteen. The original Sherry from this day would have been putting up a better fight. It was embarrassing. Everyone else had gotten stronger from the effort of playing their part in the war while she rotted in prison. Sherry alone was the Klaides child who'd been left behind.

No. She was always one of the most gifted. She needed to trust in her talent and instincts. Letting her body's muscle memory take over, Sherry lunged forward and crossed blades. Thrusting weapons only have one single point that can hurt you. The rest of the blade is otherwise just a rod. Sherry stepped into close quarters and aimed an elbow at Ophelia's ribs.

It was true. Thrusting swords did have a more limited range of movement, but she had long since learned to compensate for it. The edges were still sharp, if not as sturdy. It was clear, too, that despite everything Sherry was definitely still physically stronger and possibly, faster than her. Each clash or challenge of blades left her arm stinging with numbness and pain. However, what Sherry lacked, now, was experience and it was easy enough to read her half-sisters movements. Her movements? Easy to read, and when one was as weak as Ophelia was...one had to take every advantage they could get. Being short rarely had its advantages...but now, It meant Sherry had to aim down a little to actually hit her with her elbow.  So...Ophelia merely ducked slightly right under the blow, twirling elegantly to Sherry's non-dominant side, one hand on the hilt of her blade and the other on the pommel. As the spinning maneuver came to an end, with any luck, her rapier would be planted firmly in Sherry's neck. 

The moment Sherry registered that the blade was causing her pain, she recoiled violently. The change in her eyes was drastic. She looked equal parts terrified and haunted, yet there was a vacancy, as if her consciouness had retreated like a tortoise hiding in its shell. Her sword arm went limp and swung to her side in defeat, but she didn't concede verbally. It took her an uncomfortably long few seconds to return to the land of the living. 

[color=AC42BF]"I yield"[/color]