Like hell are you gonna finish me off like that, you arrogant prick.
Brisa forced herself conscious, forced herself up one paw and then the rest, forced herself to keep fighting. This wasn't over.
Brisa's Blaze of Glory activated!
She detonated in a flurry of blows. One paw to the legs to juke him, the next at the head to stun him, the last at the solar plexus to knock him off his feet. Puff was almost down anyway, she didn't want to kill the sorry fucker – or exhaust herself beyond her limits if there was no need – but she had to win.
Brisa used a basic strike!
Brisa used a basic strike!
Brisa used a basic strike!
Puff careened to the floor, decisively defeated, and very much given the drubbing she'd promised him. She clutched at consciousness just a little longer... She stayed standing. Puff did not.
"I spoke too soon!" called Incineroar, astonished. "The winner is Dark Warrior Brisa!"
Let's not try that one again, shall we?
Nah. Brisa needed to stick to what she was good at. That tussle was way too close for comfort. As the crowd roared, Brisa limped to Puff's side. Just 'cause he was a bit full of himself didn't mean she didn't wanna shake his paw.
"Well-fought," she growled, wondering if he was too dazed to hear.