Clash of Wills

I returned to the arena. The challenger was already waiting in the black glass. Unflinching. Balanced. Ready. I gave no warning. I lunged forward and slammed both palms flat against the cold surface. The impact cracked loud through the room. He met my drive instantly. Palm for palm. Stance for stance. Cold glass separated our knuckles, but the force was absolute. I dug my boots into the wood, channeling every ounce of leverage. He did not yield a single millimeter. Neither did I. We held the lock. Ten seconds of pure resistance. Finally, I stepped back. He held his line. A worthy rival.