A Promise Returned [Al'in, Freyja]

Brazen confidence even in the midst of battle. An attack without contact against her modesty. For a single moment, Freyja found herself on the backfoot in their contest of words. His bold approach in combat was a weapon she had become all too familiar with, but this particular act had certainly left her searching for a response. Even with the removal of his torn shirt, his form still emanated that undeniable fire that encompassed his nature as a whole, to say nothing of the coquettish words that slowly but surely sparked something more within the war maiden. Conquering him would prove a difficult feat, of course, but Freyja genuinely found her soul reignited by his words. An absolute victory she yearned to bring about with her own two hands.

The moment she crossed the path of no return, Al'in twisted his body around to release an arrow at close range. The movement was precise enough that Freyja, who had already committed herself to the motion of her swing, felt the hammer blow crash directly into her frame, compromising her ability to pursue a follow-up attack. Both of their bodies shared a similar fate as Freyja found herself struggling to regain her stance, stumbling onto her knee. It hadn't possessed the force of his prior arrows, but it still held enough force to temporarily disrupt her constitution. Leaning on her spirit weapon, Freyja slowly stepped toward Al'in. They were only a few meters apart, but it was likely a distance that either one of them could close given their respective talents.

"Bold words, Al'in. I will make that conquest a reality, then. My body, my soul, this blade... everything and anything that defines me, I'll bring it to bear right here. I will follow through on what I failed to do many months ago."

A bold declaration of victory, expressing her own intent as boldly as he uttered his own words. To her, propriety no longer mattered here. Emboldened by the heat of battle and the truest expression of her own passion, Freyja bolted forward through her own speed, foregoing the speed amplification of Hirenkyaku. Her aim was to land a decisive blow in the form of a blunt slash to his shoulder, but she knew wholeheartedly there was no guarantee it would land without a price, much like the blow she had earned against his body a moment ago. Everything would come down to reaction, wit, and, perhaps, the smallest stroke of luck.

As she expected from the moment she took charge, her decisive strike was met with the unwavering resilience of the radiant warrior's dagger. His seamless follow through proved truer still as his hand earned purchase against her midriff, temporarily disrupting her flow of offense as her body stumbled ever so slightly. No, she had to remain steadfast. To fall here after a bold declaration of victory would be unbecoming, and she vowed to offer him no less than her spirit, body, and soul.

Regaining her composure quickly, Freyja discerned how much her large spirit weapon would be a disadvantage given her magnificent opponent's shift in weaponry. As such, as though to match him on an even footing, as she did long ago, she transmuted sigurd's form until it appeared as nothing more than an azure dagger. Even with it's expenditure in size, her venerable spirit weapon still retained it's incredible potency, funneling with reishi around her body.

Lunging forward once more, Freyja charged him as she did before, soaring in from below to take advantage of their difference in size, swinging her foot forward to disrupt his balance. If it proved successful, her short sword would be brought forth unrestrained vigor, targeting his own midsection in turn. Sacrificing defense in favor of offense was a risk, but no reward was ever won without entertaining the thought of a gamble.

Offering nothing less than his finest in a contest of martial prowess, Al'in turned her gamble into a momentary setback. Freyja's offense was met with his unfettered flow of movement. It was as if he moved with the grace of the wind itself. Technique that once worked in the past proved inferior here, and Freyja recognized that what proved well against him before, would do her no good here. No, if anything, she seemed to be a shell of that self from the past. There was ferocity in her technique, yes, but there was no grace, no poise.

The result of those errors culminated in a dagger strike to the shoulder joint of her sword arm, and a hammer strike to the leg. Two successive hits followed up with a flurry of blows as her body staggered ever so slightly in the face of his supreme offense. Unwilling to remain defenseless for long, Freyja remained upright in the face of his whirlwind of attacks, lifting her short sword in an attempt to defend against his daggers wherever they traveled. She was losing momentum here at an exceedingly quick pace, but she steeled herself in preparation for a counter. There had to be something that would present itself.

A tell in his movement, a slight discrepancy to exploit, a minor error in his technique... From her point of view, there was no inherent flaw in his offense. Even so, she would find one. Boldly stepping in to engage him directly, Freyja shot her blade forward to clash high against one dagger, spinning forward in an attempt to push the blade off course. Such a technique would likely leave her open to be struck true with his other dagger, however.

As though predicting that such a counter would come to pass, Freyja would finish her movement with a roundhouse kick in an attempt to force him backward, in the hopes of gaining enough distance to evaluate her strategy. In order to see her promise fulfilled, offense and defense would have to be brought to bear. The man of the desert had already claimed that he would not make this easy for her. It was time to approach this with ideal focus.

Again, her movement was met with a deftly-timed counter, her roundhouse leaving her vulnerable to a soaring dagger to the leg in that small fraction of a second of execution. She expected that, of course, but that didn't lessen the pain by any degree. In this contest of blades, Freyja was finding herself thoroughly outmatched so far. Wherever she turned, he followed. Wherever she countered, her answered. Compared to the last time they fought, he was approaching this battle a fiber of skill that consistently kept her on the backfoot. Victory may have seemed elusive for now, but she would not allow herself to be conquered in their bout so easily. Even so...

Momentum favored the man of the desert winds, leaving her prospect for victory in doubt. As expected, this martially sound warrior was presenting no tells, no errors in movement. There was a simplistic elegance to his technique that flowed seamlessly with every pivot and turn that followed, as though his daggers were but an extension of his body. Wherein lied her opportunity to shift the overwhelming tide? One step ahead, one chess piece closer to a checkmate. To avoid being completely overwhelmed, she held her guard wherever she could to avoid suffering a stunning blow that would impede her movement. Defense, then, would prove to be the most fruitful option as her azure gaze read his movement for an attack that would require a greater expenditure of his movement. That is to say, she steadied herself in preparation for an ideal moment to strike.

The warrior of the desert darted forward, feinted to the left, throwing off her ability to telegraph his attack. In the next instant, a roaring fist careened through the air. Executed as efficiently as it was, leaving little in the way of options that were openly afforded to her. As before, what she did next would be a gamble. If it set her back once more, then so be it. As Al'in expected, Freyja telegraphed the movement of his fist, erecting her spirit weapon to guard against his strike. If he didn't make the attempt to pull it back immediately, Freyja would quickly shift into harnessing reishi, crystallizing reishi with the intent of momentarily keeping his arm held against her spirit weapon.

Depending on one's opinion, this was a reckless technique. It would temporarily sacrifice the use of her blade in dealing an immense blow, and it might well leave her susceptible to another form of counterattack, but Freyja remained steadfast in her commitment, tapping into the offensive system of her own blut to roar in with a powerful fist of her own straight into his midsection. If she could force him onto the backfoot, she might well be able to take back the momentum, but that was only if she could grasp the ideal opportunity here and now.

Another counter, another answer. Freyja had earnestly wished that her counterattacked would not be turned against her, but the man of the desert proved incredibly rebellious as he braced himself and caught her fist. It was as if he, in this moment, embodied the very nature of resilience itself, an insurmountable mountain which could not be overcome by simple means. As expected, since she had surrendered herself wholly to the punch guided forth by Blut Arterie, she had no instantaneous way of evading the sweeping leg that roaring in from below.

In the blink of an eye, she found herself tossed along the ground, harshly landing against her back. Like a gale that strikes before one can even recognize it, Freyja found herself faltering severely on the scale of balance tilting toward an inevitable defeat. The motion was so precise, so fluid, that even she could not employ a counter within an orderly timeframe.

Even so, remaining motionless would only tip the scales further in Al'in's favor. Azure eyes darted up swiftly to glimpse him crashing in from above with dagger in hand. Grateful, to some extent that she chose to activate her Blut's offensive system, Freyja used whatever momentum granted to her to roll ever so slightly, shifting her blade upward to collide against his weapons.

Locked against the ground, this was far from the ideal position she wished to find herself in, but it mattered not. She would not let herself be so easily conquered, offering her own resistance to match the spirit of his statement from earlier. If he wished to wrest victory from her hands, he would have to do so with overwhelming import, something far beyond anything else imaginable. She was pressed against the ropes, but no victory was ever acquired without fearing the idea that one fail in their venture to attain it.

And so, her body would shift about in an odd pattern, remaining in fluid motion along the ground to avoid being pinned entirely, and thereby, conquered resoundingly. Even in a tussle on the ground, there had to be something she could do to shift the tides. A wrap of the leg, a seizing of the arm, anything that could turn this battle in her favor. It was bold, but if Al'in approached her further, she would attempt exactly that, a swift kick forward, wrapping her leg within crystalline reishi to hold one of his own in place. Given their current positions, it was far from assured to succeed, but she couldn't let herself be handled so easily.