PA9

"Arghh!" The blonde screamed dramatically as he dodged the first strike, ducking out of the way while balancing squeamishly on one foot and holding his hands out before himself as though to ward off a particularly large spider.

"What... am I seeing…?" Weiss couldn't help but mumble, as the rest of the class went silent. Cardin span in place, using centrifugal force to add more power to his blow as he aimed to crush the teacher's ribs. Again Jaune Arc dodged the blow, stepping backwards in such a way that it seemed to be the barest of millimetres between cloth and brutal steel.

"Whoah!" He shouted as he stepped inside Cardin's guard the next time, the haft of the weapon whistling past his head, as the weapon crashing uselessly into the ground.

"Eeek!" He cried as the next blow threatened to crush his skull, a strike that never connected because at the last moment – when even Weiss was convinced he was dead. He had somehow span out of the way, yet again dodging by the tiniest fraction.

It continued for four minutes. A frame of time that seemed so short, but felt so long… and clearly it felt even longer for Cardin, who was beginning to pant and sweat. He must have swung his giant mace over a hundred and twenty times, each time connecting with nothing, but being forced to lift and swing it once again.

Each time he had dodged by a hairs-breadth, something that Weiss had realised sometime into the second minute, must have been on purpose. It couldn't have been luck… not considering how long he had kept it going for. And still, he hadn't drawn his weapon.

"Arghhhhhh!"

And still, he was screaming at each incoming strike. Though by now, no one in the crowd was taking it seriously. The whole fight was a joke.

And Cardin was the butt of it.

"This is cruel." Yang mumbled from nearby, "I'm beginning to wish he would just put Cardin out of his misery."

"Wearing an opponent out before going for the final blow is a valid strategy." Pyrrha cut in from beside Ruby, who was too busy watching the fight and gasping at every near-miss. "I've used it a few times myself in troubling fights."

"And the screaming?" Blake couldn't help but ask.

"Mind games perhaps?" The redheaded champion offered, and Weiss could only nod along with her. Being raised in a business environment, she knew the value of misdirection. If he was genuinely afraid of Cardin, then he could have turned and walked away at any moment. Or drawn his shield and cowered behind it.

He was playing with the student… The thought was a frightening one. Was this the level the teaching staff were on compared to them? It should have comforted her, and perhaps in some small way it did. They were being taught by the best. But it was also so frightening. They only had four years at Beacon, and Professor Arc was only a sub-teacher… and barely older than them! If the other teachers were stronger than him too?

How was she supposed to catch up?

The bout came to an end as crushingly one-sided as it had begun, Cardin swung his mace, yet this time when the teacher was dodging he seemed to collide with Cardin. The two men knocking up against one another for a moment. Weiss was unable to see what complicated martial arts manoeuvre the Professor had used, but the speed at which Cardin struck the mat told her it was a painful one.

To his credit, and she never thought she would say those words about Cardin Winchester, he tried to climb back to his feet. But all he could do was freeze when the teacher's foot rested atop his crotch, promising disaster.

"I yield!" Cardin yelped instantly. "I yield, I yield!"

[...]

His nerves finally caught up with him as he collapsed onto one of the wooden benches along the walls, taking a long draught from a bottle of water. He was covered in a light sheen of sweat, but it wasn't nearly as bad as what he routinely went through with Neo.

The fight hadn't been either.

Was this what Roman had meant when he said youngsters spent too much time focusing on their weapons? Every time Winchester had attacked, it had been telegraphed by the swinging or positioning of his mace.

When he was used to fighting someone whose feet, knees, legs, hips, knees, arms and fists were weapons? It had been trivially easy to weave in and out of the strikes when he knew they were all coming so far in advance.