The Virtues' Magecraft

Page 85: The Inheritance of The Meek, Part 2

On that day, Giovanna was strangely calm. She moved in silence, without so much as greeting her friends when she saw them from afar before she entered the locker room. She gave them a smile and a nod, a generally uncharacteristic movement.

She had only fought her brother once, and she had lost. Granted, she was a young girl and her brother was far older, but it was this day that she was the more experienced. It took her every ounce of will to ensure she wouldn't go in cocky or confident.

Alexander had prepared her physically and mentally for hours each day, for six days on end.

Now, she only twisted from side to side and bent over to touch her toes and stretch. She spat out a heavy, cool breath. And without a minute more, the red siren on the wall behind her lit up.

The time had come.

She made her way through one of the tunnels of the stadium and towards her match arena.

All she could do was stare at the pit of sand. She didn't seek to hospitalize her brother, she reminded herself.

Giovanna only had to win. Proving her worth, proving what she could do for being a 'frail', a 'weak', a 'little' girl would be enough. She was a Virtue, regardless of what would come. She would not betray herself with a loss. She would not let the others down. She would win.

'Win.'

That was the only word she repeated in her head.

Spectators continued to cheer as the two contestants finally entered the ring. The announcers didn't hesitate to begin their screeching.

"I can hardly wait, Mitch! And with the referee's arrival, it seems we won't have to wait long!" one of the men shouted out into the microphone, the sound system reverberating the echoes through the stadium's very walls.

Giovanna stared at her brother and squinted.

Giorno wore a brown suit and a white shirt, something unwise for a duel, and most unbecoming for fighting in a pit of sand, dress shoes without socks. There was no smile on his face, yet no semblance of weariness or anger. Only boredom.

He turned to the referee, an old man dressed in a bright orange shirt for his own safety. "Sir! Can we start this now, please? The food trucks are beginning to set up now, and I don't want a line to form before I get anything."

The referee let out a light chuckle and spoke not just to Giorno, but to Giovanna as well. "Fight cleanly and properly. I'm sure you both know what that means. Don't try to kill each other. If you do, the fight will be ended immediately and the aggressor will be incapacitated. Anything else goes. Make sure to put up a good show, though. I'm not supposed to say that, but..." He shrugged. "You got a whole crowd interested in this."

He took a few steps back and smiled again. "Shake hands, please."

Giovanna extended her hand out, and her brother gripped it and swung it to the side. She grit her teeth, and her brother only smirked.

It may have been the first time they had seen each other in a great many months, but they needed no time for pleasantries or greetings. In unison, they began to step back and away from each other, until they had reached the end of the pit of sand. And with that and nothing else, the referee raised his silver whistle to his lips, and out rang a blaring air.

"Begin!" the commentator cried out in elation.

Giovanna dashed forward and swung her arm downward.

Not from thin air, but from magical energy, ropes of vines burst from the ground and wrapped themselves around Giorno. Two seconds had barely made their way onto the clock, and the man was already immobile.