Leo seized the opportunity. He didn't attack directly. He observed Baros's breathing pattern, his frantic heartbeat, and the way he held his poison pouch. He saw it—a weakness. Baros relied too much on his poison; his physical defense was mediocre.
Quickly, Leo kicked a small pebble towards Baros's wrist, the one holding the poison pouch. Tok! A precise hit. Baros cried out in pain, and his poison pouch fell to the ground.
"My poison!" As Baros bent down to retrieve it, Leo was already in front of him. Not with a lethal strike, but with a simple kick that sent the poison pouch flying far out of the arena.
"This match is about skill, not poison," Leo declared loudly, for all to hear.
Deprived of his weapon, Baros panicked. He attacked recklessly. Leo, using the perfectly mastered basic
