The Final Dance

Zar’Tir
JP with Omni and Lorem

Macaidon turned to the spectators, raising his arms triumphantly. "Behold, my good people, a true warrior!" He pointed at Gonyaul, smirking before turning back to the crowd. "See here the mighty Vaux, brought low and humbled! This meek creature believed he could win by evading forever…" Once again Machaidon looked at his fallen opponent. “…but witness his defeat!” The crowd roared in approval, their cheers affirming Macaidon's dominance.

Slowly, Gonyaul pushed himself up, his breath ragged but his eyes still focused. He got to his feet, ready to face whatever came next as he witnessed Macaidon.

Gonyaul remained calm, his gaze peaceful. Slowly, he began to move, his body flowing into a series of gentle, fluid motions. His movements were a graceful blend of various forms, each transition seamless and elegant. His feet glided across the ground drawing characters that meant important things in his language, his arms tracing arcs in the air. To the untrained eye, it looked like a very slow and deliberate performance of the beauty of movement.

The spectators watched in confusion, some of them silently appreciating the novelty of it, some of them laughing at the sight of the petite and beautiful Gonyaul performing what appeared to be a dance in the middle of a fight. Macaidon laughed loudly, shaking his head. "What do you do, Vaux? Hatch my bow thoroughly addled your mind?"

Gonyaul's movements continued, unperturbed by the laughter and taunts. He looked at Macaidon kindly, his voice calm and composed. "I appreciate our time together, Macaidon, but I would like to bring this fight to its end now."

Macaidon sneered, eager to finish the match. "Couldn't agree more. Let us conclude this charade and prove that we have no need for weak Vaux!" With a roar, he charged forward, launching himself into an impressive aerial attack, a powerful flying knee aimed at Gonyaul's head.

—-
In the blink of an eye, Gonyaul's body became a blur of motion. He stepped to the side, his hands moving with incredible speed and precision. He caught Macaidon's knee in midair, redirecting its momentum. In one fluid motion, he wrapped his arms around Macaidon's leg and torso, using his opponent's own force against him.

The crowd gasped as Gonyaul seemed to envelop around Macaidon, each movement leading the larger man like a puppet on a string. Gonyaul’s grip was like steel, his body moving with an almost supernatural grace. With a series of leveraged movements, he twisted and spun, sending Macaidon flying through the air.

The spectators watched in stunned silence as Macaidon was launched across the training ground, his body twisting and flipping uncontrollably. He hit the ground hard, the impact echoing and inspiring winces from the crowd. Macaidon lay there for a second, the wind completely knocked out of him.

Gonyaul stood calmly, his expression serene, as if the explosive maneuver had taken no effort at all. He bowed and signed respect and honor to his opponent. The crowd was silent for a moment, stunned by the unexpected turn of events. Then, slowly, a few began to clap, the applause spreading until the entire arena was cheering for Gonyaul. Meanwhile, Gonyaul sheepishly wanted to deflect the praise and was trying to gesture that perhaps they should go assist Macaidon.

——-
Macaidon groaned, rolling himself over with a pained wince and a cough. Slowly, he pushed himself up off the damp sand, his muscles straining with the effort. He wiped the blood and spit that drooled from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

Despite the pain, a satisfied, bloody smile crept across his face and he allowed a hearty laugh, for he enjoyed the sport. And he was glad to see the Vaux was finally recalling his true skill. Rising to his feet, Macaidon gave Gonyaul an exaggerated bow of respect, a gesture that carried more sincerity than mockery. The crowd watched in silence, sensing the shift in Macaidon's attitude.

Straightening up, Macaidon walked over to Gonyaul and clasped him firmly around the shoulder. Gonyaul couldn’t help but be reminded of Tarmen.

"Thou art skilled after all, Vaux," he admitted, his voice carrying a newfound respect. "I admit I underestimated thee. Thy unorthodox method and prowess is undeniable.” He grabbed the Vaux’s hand and raised it into the air. The crowd, sensing the moment of mutual respect, began to clap and cheer, their earlier skepticism replaced with admiration for both fighters. Gonyaul's calm composure and Macaidon's acceptance of his defeat had turned the bout into a display of honor and skill.

With the fight concluded, Gonyaul allowed himself to relax. Dropping his discipline, his body language moved from that of a poised unyielding fighter to exhaustion. He rubbed the parts of his body that were still throbbing with a mild expression of pain. The transformation demonstrated the virtue of temperance to hold such things in their proper place and time until after it had run its course. He could even hear one of his elders voices in his head, ~Temper thyself Gonyaul, take all things as far as they should go and no farther.~

He was a little unclear as to what Macaidon was planning to do as he was approached once more. Was it perhaps time for yet another round? To his humble surprise, he was suddenly celebrated. It made him feel blessed, that he didn’t even mind the shoulder Macaidon grasped was sore and preferred to be given time to itself.

Gonyaul smiled bitter sweetly. He was not quite sure why it took combat to bring everyone closer together, he was not at all keen on this method having considered several other more peaceful options that could possibly lend the same result, but he was glad it did. “Any admirable effects I displayed were a necessary reflection caused by your competency and tenacity.” Gonyaul declared respectfully to Macaidon loud enough to be heard by the onlookers. Everyone was engorged in the moment to notice, but Gonyaul looked at Macaidon with a sense of accomplishment; he believed that he had made another friend.