Her Graceful War Song (Carissa Sinclair) novel Chapter 822

Next up was each of the twelve captains, but none managed to last the full 20 exchanges against Carissa. They all fell short at around fifteen or sixteen exchanges.

Max put up a decent fight, making it through 40 exchanges before he was taken down. When he stood back up and bowed, he wore a satisfied smile—he felt proud of his performance.

Finally, it was Alistair's turn.

Alistair had been intently watching Carissa's moves. He felt like he had a good grasp on her patterns. He figured he could manage 50 exchanges without much trouble. His leg techniques were his strongest suit, and Carissa's kicks lacked the necessary power. On the other hand, her punches were incredibly fast. If he could focus on using his lower body, he believed he would hold the advantage.

He bounced on his feet a few times to stretch his muscles. "I'm up."

Carissa wore an enigmatic smile. "Yes, it's your turn."

For some reason, seeing that smile sent a shiver of unease down Alistair's spine. He couldn't shake the feeling that she was hiding some devastating technique just for him.

"First move is yours," Carissa offered, showing no signs of fatigue after the earlier rounds. She still looked as energized as when she had first started.

Seeing her take a slight stance, he knew she was ready. He feinted with a punch, then kicked toward her. As his foot aimed straight at her, he quickly changed direction mid-kick, targeting her chin. He executed the maneuver swiftly.

Most people would only block for their abdomen or chest, but Carissa read his intentions easily. She brought her elbows up, creating a solid guard in front of her. With a powerful thrust, she sent Alistair flying back.

He stumbled backward, scrambling to regain his balance. He executed a backflip mid-air and landed on his feet. But before he could steady himself, a flurry of kicks came his way. He barely had time to brace himself, dodging and evading as best he could. Carissa lunged forward with a flying kick, twisting in the air to strike again.

With three or four consecutive kicks, Alistair felt his balance slipping. His insides felt like they were rearranging themselves, and he stifled a groan of pain.

This wasn't going to work—he needed a new strategy. Gritting his teeth against the discomfort, he closed the distance between them, narrowing their fighting range. This way, Carissa wouldn't be able to use her kicks effectively.

However, in his focus on her legs, he completely forgot about Carissa's superior punching skills.