Chapter 158: Chapter Hundred And Fifty Seven

Damon walked away from Camilla. His leather boots made quiet sounds against the thick sand. He walked directly to the large wooden weapon rack standing against the far stone wall.

He stood before the rack for a moment, looking at the shiny, deadly tools of war. He reached out and picked up a steel sword. The polished metal gleamed in the torchlight. He held the sword expertly in his right hand. Then, he picked up a pair of dark leather combat gloves. He pulled the gloves on, securing them tightly over his large hands and wrists.

He turned around to face her.

"Pick a weapon and we start," Damon spoke. His deep voice echoed softly in the large, open cavern.

Camilla walked over to the wooden rack. Her eyes quickly scanned the rows of battle axes, long wooden spears, and broadswords. She did not want anything bulky. Her transmigrated body was too small to swing a heavy axe effectively.

Her eyes landed on a pair of perfectly balanced twin daggers.

She reached out and took one of the daggers from the rack. The handle was wrapped in dark leather. The blade was about ten inches long.

She held the blade up to the light. She gently brushed the very tip of her thumb against the edge of the metal. It was incredibly sharp. It was not a blunt wooden practice stick like the ones they used at the military camp.

She looked across the sand at Damon.

"It’s an actual dagger," Camilla said. Her voice carried a mix of genuine surprise and deep respect. She was holding a weapon that could easily kill a man.

Damon did not smile. His face was a mask of serious military discipline.

"Yes," Damon replied calmly, gripping his steel sword. "So make a good choice."

Camilla nodded her head slowly. She reached out and grabbed the second matching dagger. She held one sharp blade in her right hand and one in her left. The cold steel felt completely familiar and highly comforting in her palms. It felt like she was returning to her true self.

She walked toward the center of the arena. Her soft boots sank slightly into the sand. Damon walked forward to meet her. They stopped about ten feet apart.

They both took their combat stance.

Damon stood tall, his feet planted firmly in the sand. He held his sword down at his side, completely relaxed but ready to strike in a fraction of a second.

Camilla crouched slightly, lowering her center of gravity. She held her daggers out in front of her, keeping her elbows slightly bent. Her eyes locked entirely onto Damon’s face.

Damon looked at her perfect stance.

"Don’t hold back," Damon spoke out loud. His voice was challenging. "Show me what you have learnt."

Inside his mind, his thoughts were completely focused on her secret identity.

"Let me see your true strength," Damon thought to himself. His eyes searched her face. "I know you are a master. Show me what you can really do when you are not pretending to be weak."

Camilla heard his command. She nodded her head firmly. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the cool underground air.

Damon raised his sword slightly.

"Fight!" Damon yelled loudly.

The battle began instantly.

Camilla did not wait for him to attack. She moved first. She pushed off her back foot, exploding forward with speed. The sand kicked up behind her boots. She closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye.

She swung her right dagger in a fast, sharp, diagonal slice toward his chest.

Clang!

The sound of sharp steel hitting sharp steel rang loudly in the quiet arena. Sparks flew into the air.

Damon had brought his sword up effortlessly. He blocked her fast strike perfectly. He did not even flinch. His arm absorbed the impact completely.

Camilla quickly pulled her right arm back and thrust her left dagger straight toward his stomach.

Damon twisted his wrist. He used the flat side of his long blade to push her dagger away, smoothly deflecting the sharp tip past his side.

Camilla quickly realized that Damon was an incredibly formidable opponent.

She jumped backward, putting space between them. She breathed quickly.

"He is fast," Camilla thought to herself, her mind analyzing his movements. "He is so big, but he moves like water. There is absolutely no wasted energy in his steps."

She charged again. She moved in a rapid, unpredictable zigzag pattern, trying to confuse his eyes. She swung her daggers in a blur, aiming high, then low, then high again.

Clang! Clack! Shing!

Damon blocked all of her strikes. He stepped back smoothly, letting her waste her energy swinging at empty air. His eyes tracked every single movement of her hands. He was reading her body language perfectly.

Camilla gritted her teeth. She decided to use the advanced physics technique she had used to defeat the giant mercenary on the dirt field.

She lunged forward, pretending to aim for his shoulder. As Damon raised his sword to block, Camilla suddenly dropped low to the ground. She reached out with her empty left hand, attempting to grab the thick fabric of his grey tunic near his waist. She wanted to pull him forward, to use his own massive weight and forward momentum entirely against him to throw him into the sand.

But Damon was not a clumsy man. He was a master tactician.

As soon as Camilla grabbed his tunic and pulled, Damon anticipated the move. He did not fight against her pull. Instead, he smoothly stepped into the pull, shifting his feet quickly. He bent his knees and maneuvered his body gracefully, spinning out of her grip completely.

Camilla’s hand slipped off his shirt. She stumbled forward slightly, her balance broken because he did not fall as she expected.

Damon lightly tapped the flat, blunt side of his steel sword against her back, signaling that he could have easily struck her down.

Camilla spun around, her eyes flashing with intense, competitive fire. She was highly annoyed that her trick had failed.

"Okay," Camilla thought, her assassin instincts fully taking over. "No more playing around. You want to see my strength? Fine."

Camilla now gave her absolute all into the fight.

She stopped pretending to be a beginner. She moved exactly like the Black Widow. She attacked him from every possible angle. She jumped, twisted, and slashed with ruthless precision. The speed of her strikes doubled.

The tension between them in the fight was electric. It was no longer a simple training session. The air grew thick with the heat of their moving bodies.

Damon was completely mesmerized.

He watched her red curly hair flying around her face. He watched the fierce, determined fire burning in her eyes. She was magnificent. She was deadly. She was perfect.

But Damon was also holding back. He was trying his absolute hardest not to hurt her.

He was much stronger than she was. If he swung his sword with full force, he could easily disarm her or break her wrists. But he did not attack. He stayed completely on the defensive, skillfully evading all her sharp attacks, stepping backward in the sand, just blocking her daggers with the thick edge of his blade.

Camilla saw that he was only defending. It frustrated her. She wanted to push him past his limits.

She feinted a low strike to his knee. As Damon lowered his sword to block the fake attack, Camilla quickly spun her body around. She slashed her right dagger in a fast, high arc toward his chest.

Swish.

The sharp tip of her steel dagger caught the fabric of his linen tunic.

It was a clean slice. The sharp blade cut a long, clean line directly across his chest, tearing the fabric open.

Camilla stopped moving instantly. She jumped backward, lowering her daggers. She breathed heavily.

She had managed to cut the fabric of his shirt. If they were in a real war, she would have drawn blood.

Damon stopped moving. He lowered his sword. He looked down at his chest. He saw the torn fabric. He saw his bare skin showing underneath the cut.

He slowly lifted his head and looked at her. He was not angry. His eyes were shining with deep respect. She had actually managed to break his defense.

"Impressive," Damon thought to himself, his heart beating fast with the thrill of the fight.

They stood in the sand, staring at each other. The silence in the arena was filled only by the sound of their heavy, rapid breathing.

After thirty minutes of intense, non-stop fighting with no clear winners, the physical exhaustion finally began to catch up to Camilla.

Her body was still very weak. Her arms felt incredibly heavy. Her lungs burned for more air. A thick layer of sweat covered her pale face and her neck.

She needed to take a break. She took a slow step backward in the thick sand, intending to lower her weapons.

As she stepped backward, her leather boot landed on something hard.

Hidden beneath the sand was a small, round stone.

Camilla stepped directly onto the uneven edge of the stone causing her to lose her footing.

Her ankle rolled sharply outward.

"Ah!" Camilla gasped in sudden surprise.

She completely lost her balance. Her legs gave out from under her. She began to fall backward toward the ground, her arms flailing helplessly in the air.