Chapter 187: Willow The Maiden (9)

Prepared to engage in this fateful brawl, Willow couldn't fathom a loss. He was determined, if nothing else, to avoid that ignominious fate. He racked his brain, searching for a path to at least a stalemate against the Sage, while the world around them seemed to move in slow motion.

In this slowed-down world of contemplation, Willow knew he had to make a choice – a daring, audacious choice that might just turn the tide. It was a plan fraught with risks, but he couldn't let the fear of failure hold him back. His pride as a martial artist and the Maiden coursed through him, urging him onward.

In this time-stretched realm of contemplation, Willow's mind churned with calculated strategies. His meta-knowledge of past events granted him a unique perspective, an advantage he sought to exploit. Yet, every envisioned tactic ended in defeat at the moment the Sage unleashed his 'So' or opened his eyes.

While Willow might potentially challenge the Sage by unveiling one of his emblem skills, the cost was too great. Victory was far from assured, and he was reluctant to reveal his true identity as the Maiden, despite the fact that keen observers in the Tournament had already caught on to his secret.

Willow's focus was a laser beam cutting through the chaos around him. In the coliseum where madness reigned, he was a lone island of unwavering determination. The cacophony of clashing swords, elemental eruptions, and the ever-shifting terrain fell on deaf ears.

His attention was an unbreakable bond with his own purpose. He couldn't care less about the merry-go-round stage spinning in erratic disarray or the random events that unfolded like whims of a capricious deity. At this very moment, his entire world revolved around one singular objective – to defy the stereotype that had plagued the Maidens throughout time.

Willow was determined to obliterate the notion that the Maiden was a symbol of fragility, a helpless damsel in need of a savior. The weight of history, the expectations of tradition, all bore down on him. But he refused to bow. He refused to let the legacy of the Maidens be one of weakness.

With every fiber of his being, he wanted to show the Sage that this new 'Maiden' was different, someone who shattered the mold. He aimed to prove that strength wasn't confined to gender, that power wasn't a birthright but something earned. He was here to put an end to the suffocating stereotype that had haunted the Maidens for generations, the stereotype that had reduced them to nothing more than over-glorified victims.

And then, in the midst of this inner battle, inspiration struck. It wasn't so much a revelation as a memory surfacing. An idea, long tucked away in the recesses of his mind, resurfaced. In a flash of realization, he understood how to turn the tide in his favor.

With a newfound determination fueled by purpose, Willow implemented this idea into his calculations. It was a risky move, a gambit that could either secure a draw or possibly snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. But he didn't hesitate. He was no longer the Maiden of old. He was the Maiden who defied expectations, who challenged the status quo.

So, he thought again on his options. Amidst the swirling chaos of the arena, Willow felt the weight of the impending battle pressing upon him. His gaze remained locked with the Sage's, recognizing the profound danger that lay within the enigmatic warrior's skill set. What made the Sage most formidable were not just his abilities, but the three specific skills he wielded - His [Eyes], His [So] (known as [Domain]), and His [Sword Art], particularly his astonishing quick-draw.

In this moment, as the tension mounted, Willow understood that these three factors were the most perilous elements of the Sage's arsenal. His [Eyes] held an eerie mystique that could unravel an opponent's very essence, his [So] (Domain) had the potential to exert control over the battlefield, and his [Sword Art] boasted unmatched swiftness and precision.

Willow's thoughts raced, like a cunning game master plotting his moves. He needed to shift the balance of this battle in his favor. He needed to demonstrate that he, the Maiden, could not be underestimated or classified as a helpless victim. The memory of a particular scene from the game rose to the surface of his consciousness.

With that memory came a plan, a tactic that could cripple two of the Sage's three formidable skills. Willow's eyes flicked away from the Sage for a moment, back to the world he hailed from, where the coliseum and its chaotic battleground seemed but a distant dream. He returned his gaze to the Sage, and then, he did something unexpected.

Willow abandoned his fighting stance. His body, once tense and coiled like a spring ready to unleash its energy, relaxed. It was a calculated move, designed to elicit curiosity from the Sage. The enigmatic warrior raised an eyebrow, and the question tumbled from his lips, "What are you doing?"

Willow's response was carefully crafted, designed to bait the Sage into the trap he was setting. "This battle," he declared, his tone laced with conviction, "is not fair. Nor is it worth my time."

The Sage, a master of composure, couldn't help but be intrigued. "Explain," he prompted, his curiosity piqued.

A small smile touched the corners of Willow's lips. The Sage had taken the bait, and now it was time to spin the web. "It's unfair," Willow began, his words measured and deliberate, "because I have no intention of making my name known in such a lowly coliseum. I don't plan on losing to an opponent with such an unfair advantage."

Willow's words were like carefully laid traps, baited with insinuations and implications. He continued, his voice steady, "Especially when I can't use my garb or my pegasi, while you, my dear Sage, have the full repertoire of your skills at your disposal."

The Sage, ever the embodiment of chivalry, frowned slightly. "Are you suggesting that I would use such advantages unfairly?"