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The next day, Damon faced Zachariah Carpenter.

The two stood on opposite sides of the arena.

The king signaled for the match to start.

But no one moved.

After a few seconds, the two began inching forward. This continued until they were a mere few feet away from each other. The crowd was quiet, waiting for the clanging of swords to begin.

But the two continued to wait.

Damon grew impatient. His father had told him to play defensively, but Zachariah knew Damon favored the offensive and he wasn't going to take any chances.

Finally, Damon decided to give the crowd what they wanted.

He attacked.

Zachariah, a man about twice Damon’s size, raised his sword, and Damon’s swing came to a sudden halt.

Zachariah twisted both swords, sending Damon's skidding across the floor. He pulled his sword back, and swung at Damon’s head with the butt.

Damon ducked, and felt air rush past his head. He lunged at his sword, grabbed it, and parried Zachariah’s attack, still laying on the floor.

Zachariah swung again, massive strength behind his sword, and Damon struggled to block it.

He needed to do something, or he was going to get overpowered soon.

As Zachariah pulled his arm back, Damon saw his chance. He raised his foot, and rammed it into Zachariah’s crotch.

He let out a loud groan through clenched teeth. Every man present sympathized with him at that moment.

Zachariah let go of his sword to hold his wounded area, and Damon rolled out of the blade’s way. He stood, and placed his hand on Zachariah’s forehead. He pushed it back, and Zachariah fell without protest.

Damon placed the tip of his sword to Zachariah’s neck.

He was now a finalist.

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