Normally, one of two things would have happened.
The first, Ishida would have been moved by concern for the very real predicament of the cliff side, proclaimed victory (even in jest) and relented enough for Bernard to find an opportunity to reset.
Or the second,
Bernard
would have easily overpowered Ishida in a blade lock. And he had done so before, many times. His size and his downward defence gave him every advantage.
Neither expected outcome happened.
This time, she did not relent. This time, she was steadfast, with no need for a follow-up attack or pursuing victory through some other means. There was no ache that burned her muscles, no strain that pulled at her ligaments that gave way to buckling, and no tremble that thwarted her resistance.
Concealed beneath a pair of gloves she didn't usually wear — for it was the only way she could keep the oversized trinket on her finger — was the source of her atypical strength. The Ring of Judgement she had been gifted from her late Master Sardun.
They'd entered this contest to improve their respective abilities and continue developing their knowledge of the others to better fight as a pair. It seemed a controlled enough combat environment for Ishida to feel safe trialling the ring with more intimacy to her person than she had on Teta. She hadn't told Bernard, of course, because she hadn't predicted its effects to be so subtly influential.
She dared another quarter-step forward into their lock, emboldened by the ring's ability to strip all hesitation born from emotion and rationality— The emotion that would have clicked the connection between her heart and mind and offered mercy.