The blade comes closer.
My opponent’s urge for victory comes closer,
But I, in the last second,
attempt a swinging to block,
evading the blade.
Cling!
The screech of metal pierces the grand hall,
echoes out–
cringing many.
The blade flies high,
in the sunlight, just a blur
then a clatter.
 
My opponent’s blade is a mere foot to the right.
He dives, ready to grab the blade.
I dig my foot into the bottom of the blade then flip the blade
upwards to my fencing glove.
He halts and looks up in horror,  
only to see two flashes of light
plummeting into his chest plate,
declaring
my
victory.