“Alright, then…this’ll only take… five seconds,” Travis said confidently. “One…”
By the second tick, his hilt was in Talan’s chin and the young man’s sword was in the air. By the third tick, Talan was on his back, Talan’s sword was in Travis’ hand, and Travis’ sword was in its own sheath. Screams and shouts began to erupt once the crowd had enough time to realize what had just happened.
Katrina tried not to act shocked, but she couldn’t quite help it.
“Oh…damn, that was six, wasn’t it?” Travis groaned, looking up at Katrina, who shook her head.
“That was three,” she said, her eyes still trying to process what had just happened.
“Agh!” Talan sat up, clutching his chin as he staggered to his feet, aided by Jillian, who had run over to help him. Talan stood, hands on his knees, as he breathed heavily.
“Damn!” he groaned. “Oh, my head…what the heck was that?”
“That’s called ‘lost-cause material’,” Travis replied, so wittily that even Talan had to laugh in spite of himself. As Travis walked over and offered the sword to Talan, he asked, “I didn’t break your chin, did I?”