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"And yet, the analyst says, crossing her arms over her chest, "it was a 5-to-1 lead for the brunettes in the first round. One skilled blonde does not make them superior to the others. It makes you lucky."

"Luck has nothing to do with it. Just watch the next match!" Betty says. The video continues, with the Mistress of Ceremonies acknowledging the skills of each of the fighters, and then she turns towards Miss Prim and asks. "You are the last of your team. You get to choose your next opponent."

"At that moment," Miss Prim says, "I knew I had to choose wisely. If I didn't pace myself, I would surely be destroyed. So, I had to weigh my options - go after the big bruisers, or take on the faster ones. I knew I had to save Roberta's slayer for later on. If I fought her first, I'd be too tired out to take her friends on, so, I rose my sword, and pointed towards the gladiatrix with the iron knuckles, those spikes coated in blood. Without extensive reach, she would be easier to take on."

"Not to mention, such a weapon is the complete opposite of the grace of a rapier," Miss Jones says. "There's no beauty when it comes to beating someone to death."

The two face off, the nude gladiatrix standing with her bloodied hands upon her hips. "I'm gonna cave your skull in just like your pretty friend, Miss Princess! How does that feel?"

Miss Prim just smiles and raises her sword. "You may turn the sand of this arena into a sea of blood, but to me, it is a canvas and this is my brush." She twirls her sword in the air.

The gladiatrix snorts as the crowd cheers, and then she runs forward, throwing her punches with great speed. Miss Prim weaves from side-to-side, her feet kicking up sand in a bright display of splashing particles.

"She was a fast one, indeed," Miss Prim says, "but she had no style. There was grace there, I must admit, but, really, they don't see the real beauty in combat."

Going onto the offensive, Miss Prim slashes in front of her, letting the tip of the rapier slash across the gladiatrix's breasts. The naked warrior cries out, stumbling back as she gropes herself, blood dribbling down her fingers and onto the ground. Miss Prim smirks and motions for her to come on.

The gladiatrix obliges, rushing at her with even more furious punches as her body is stained crimson. As she moves her way forward, the blood sprinkles onto the battlefield, and Miss Prim continues her way around, weaving and turning, keeping just out of the woman's reach.

Once she is satisfied, she thrusts forward. The wildly punching gladiatrix lets out a loud gasp as the rapier skewers her right through her navel. With a twirl, the dazzling blonde swordswoman twists her insides and then pulls the weapon free, flicking the rest of the blood off onto the ground.

The camera zooms out as the gladiatrix staggers backwards and then falls, showing off a cursive "P" written in crimson upon the sand.

"Brilliant, Brilliant!" Betty says, clapping.

"Yes, it is a technique to show her opponents that she has energy to face them each off," adds the Headmistress admiringly.

"It's a waste of energy," The analyst says. "You're still lucky to have survived, especially after that. Most warriors would be dead then and there, because of the energy you expelled."

"Is there a type of fighting you actually do like?" The host says, a sly giggle in her voice.

"We'll see, soon enough," the analyst admits.

Back to the fight, Miss Prim faces the net with certainty, slashing her weapon in a blur of slashes. As it lands upon her, it falls into ribbons around her, leaving her spear-wielding opponent with a bewildered expression - one that is punctuated with a teary cry as the blonde's blood soaked blade sticks out of her lower back and makes her crumple to the ground.

"Well, you're doing a great job in telling us how much your team mates were failures who deserved to lose," the analyst says. "I mean, look at that. That net was nothing!"

"That net..." Miss Prim replies, through gritted teeth, "was actually rather tough to break apart. I... actually practiced against weapons like that, so I could pull off that maneuver. It... takes a lot of training and skill to even attempt it, let alone do it."

Miss Jones glances over towards Miss Prim, placing her hand behind her back, patting her tenderly. "She doesn't know," she whispers. "Don't let it get to you. Not everyone understands."

"Oh, I understand perfectly," the analyst retorts. "It's my job to understand fights, and I've seen nothing here that I can't find a strong counter for".

"Really? What would you have done?" Betty asks, leaning in.

"Let's look at this next one, shall we?" The analyst says, pointing to the cutlass gladiatrix. "See how she blindly swings it, letting it cut through the wind and carry her momentum? Miss Prim can see that easily enough... any amateur can. And we can see the actual result of it, can't we?"

From the recording of the event, a long, drawn-out groan fills the stadium before the gladiatrix crumples to the ground. "It's pathetic."

"Each of their deaths avenged the deaths of my comrades," Miss Prim says. "I need to ask you, Miss... analyst" she says, turning toward her. "Have you ever faced against a gladiatrix in battle? Ever hear their psychological taunts? Ever smelled their musk as they stare down at you with bloodlust in their eyes. To them, we are like call girls, people they use once and then throw away so they can get their perverse satisfaction. I've grown used to it over my years, sure, but, there's nothing human, nothing natural, about the way they fight. There's a reason, you know, that there's such a high mortality rate for challengers on this show."