The blade glints in the light. The ring when it meets another is audible and resonates deep within me. The pen is mightier than the sword, but the feeling of a sword in my hands is powerful too. I know I can do this. I just have to win this fight, and all is safe, I can rest then. I just have to focus now. I block a strike, and parry immediately. There is only my sword and me, all other things faded away. I'm a pretty protector, swirling, moving, and keeping those I care about safe. My opponent tires. Their responses become slow, and their defense opens. They don't have the drive I have. I can stay here, I have purpose and focus, not just a reason to fight. I hear words, but I know they are not for me. Not right now. There is no space for words now in my head, only the drive to guard, to win. The words are for them. Each word softens them and evaporates their resistance more and more. Until they stop. They obey.

My job is done. I take off my helmet and shake out my hair. I feel a finger on my forehead. My eyes look up, but my eyelids are already too heavy. I feel myself dropping, knowing I have defended what is important and that this is my reward.