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Despite the novice quality he still bore, Chalcopyrite had signed up for the tournaments. There was no question he was at least fit to some extent, spending enough hours in the gym when he was able to however fighting was an entirely another issue he had yet to confront. So there he was, knowing that there was a rather high risk of making a fool of himself in front of the rest, including General Cinnabar, he was going to do what he could to at least prove to be of more worth then his medical skills.

Not bothering to look up at the stands he made his way into the ring to face his opponent he took a position opposite from her. A corrupted senshi, interesting to say the least, if anything he would obtain some sort of knowledge at the end of the battle.

She was shorter, smaller frame than his own but with ease she had crossed the arena at a speed he did not expect, or at least at a pace he had not expected by any normal human. He didn’t underestimate her, but in full honesty Chalcopyrite was unsure what to expect from his opponent at all or anything in the entire tournament and that he needed to continue to abandoned normality. It was part of the problem of being a novice, that there was too much that one needed to learn and how great of a disadvantage one was at when facing other opponents.

Her hit’s where shallow, enough to cause some discomfort but with less force than Chalcopyrite had expected when she had approached swiftly. Bracing his feet he swung his curled fist towards her, completely unsure of where he was aiming and when he made no contact with her at all he hissed lowly under his breath at himself. Fool.

HP: 17
DMG: 0 and so it begins

Either her plan had succeeded, or the lieutenant was still very new to the workings of active combat. A stationary target was easy to hit. Anyone could throw a decent right hook when they needn't bother with suspected trajectories or the difficult task of adjusting a blow already in motion. Ceraskia tried not to count on the latter being the case here. Continue moving, continue presenting as difficult a target as she possibly could.

His arm slipped through the air past the side of her head, and she'd take advantage of the opening, driving a dainty fist into the middle of his side. No bones there, no protection.

HP:20
DMG: 5

Do not linger so close.. The thought came only a fraction of a second before the downward drop of the man's elbow, and Ceraskia didn't have the time to duck away completely. What could have been was ended in only slightly more than a grazing strike. Hard enough to sending an aching wave, but she didn't think it'd bruise, least not badly.

Her palms found his chest after, shoving him back from her to gain a few more inches of distance. Close enough to gauge his movements, but not enough to be so easily caught up in long, swinging limbs. His reach was likely double her own.

Hands were not the only thing at the Senshi's disposal, though. A slender, but muscled leg came around in a sudden, swift kick to the side of his knee. Ground him, incapacitate, and end it quickly. That was her goal.

HP: 18
DMG: 4

Quartz hadn't joined the tournament in the first place for any reason having to do with a desire to win. He'd joined it to study his fellow agents in battle -- to make note of their strengths and weaknesses, add some notes to their files. Up close, he'd have the chance to test out one or two of his rank-mates skills, see how they handled what he might throw at them . . . but it was of interest, too, to observe the higher and lower ranks at their combat.

Of particular interest was Ceraskia, who'd also chosen to enter the lists. She was, after all, a fellow pupil of Schörl's -- and that meant that every action she took reflected on her General, their General. If she underperformed, or if Quartz did, they might both answer for it in some way or another.

Quartz sat in the audience, elbows propped on his knees, resting his chin on his folded hands while he studied the combatants. Ceraskia was doing well, so far, but he'd seen where her self-important attitude could get her before . . . would she carry the fight off flawlessly, or would she get over-confident and make an error?

This was a mistake… He had to admit it to himself as Chalcopyrite cursed under his breath at the inevitable end of the battle. There was little doubt he would lose, it was apparent to him that the corrupted senshi’s abilities, regardless of her size, were greater than his. To him it didn’t matter that he was a complete novice, fledgling, barely even a member no more than a week, the fact of the matter was he lacked the knowledge to fight. That irritated him.

A hasty kick to his side brought him back down on his knee, it was going to be an ugly bruise in the end a mark of his shame like a reminder. Looking at her he got to his feet, slower as if trying to keep himself steady, swinging but missing her entirely.

HP: 5
DMG: 0

If Chalcopyrite was going to lose he wasn’t going to lose to easily to the nimble dancer, the embarrassment of showing his novice skills in fighting were wretched enough, but laying down and giving up completely was a cowardly way out. No instead he would at least, even if struggling, go down fighting in the end. Leaving without at least returning a few bruises to at least match some of his own that were forming would be enough.

She had moved forward again, closing the space between them as he shuffled backwards, his feet still unsettling beneath him as he tried to avoid her. Missed, he could feel the tug of his braid as her hand grazed by, too close for his comfort. Your chance… Putting his weight on one foot he kicked aiming for the exposed midsection of her side just below the ribs. Wasn’t the most solid kick he could have done but it was the best he had done since they had started.

HP: 5
DMG: 4