Littleroot Versus Nutcracker

“Nah, f—”

“Squee?”

“—that. I withdraw.”

I stare, dumbfounded. “...Excuse me?”

My opponent turns to me, “Witch, please. If friggin’ Damian couldn’t even last a minute against you, I know I sure as hell don’t stand a chance. I don’t plan on spending today in the infirmary having my balls reconstructed by a wizard. Go fight someone else, you psycho witch. I’m outta here—peace."

Super Grandpa watches as my opponent exits the arena. “Uh, well, I’ll be honest folks—that is the single worst start to the second day of the Rising Stars Tournament I’ve ever seen. And given my age, that’s really saying something. But, uh, don’t you worry! Because—”

“Hold it!” A student comes sprinting from the hall behind me. “If I win this round, I’ll be her next opponent. If that happens, can I preemptively surrender now?”

“What is even going on?!” I shout. “How am I the bad guy of last round?! I got stabbed!”

He jumps back, shielding his private area. “I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me!”

“Ugh!” I storm out of the arena, unable to decide whether I should be happy about the free win or furious.