“The young man wandered across the dwellings that resembled the architecture of a nation which industrialised in a massive scale, which now is in rotten decay as such architecture has been replaced through the brutalisation of a new form of architecture which resemble the infrastructure of the gloomey prison not far from here. The depressing feeling was not only felt near the prison as the men barely come out as they watch the screen alongside looking outside at the smokey curtain above. Yet…the tired young man did not desire to be drawn into that form of misery as he saw a town hall, an empty one at that, where he was told to go. When he entered the town hall, he saw something that you see in a theatre but the young man was not interested in drama, as he approached the upper floors with each step on the stairs towards the tower of the town hall. He then came across a large door which he opened with his frail arms and he saw a woman with dark clothing similar to what the female sailors wear as they ride the boat across the turbulent sea. The young man identified her, ‘That’s her’, he thought. But youthful as he is, he was quite cautious as he was aware of what he was told about her. He slowly approached towards her as he steadily drew out his dagger and he crouched down with his tiptoes on the ground. One step, silence. Second step, silence. Third step, silence. Fourth step, silence. The young man stopped counting as he thought about the methods in which he wanted to kill her. Did he want to slit her throat first? Did he want to stab her in the belly or did he…‘Gripping it on hard are you?’, she said as she stood up from the dark chair. The young man froze in fear and then stood up and moved back with two large steps in astonishment of her speech. ‘Why do you grip on your dagger so hard?’, she said as she pulled out her sword and gripped on it firmly, ‘Does it remind you of what you’ve lost?’, she said as she tilted her head similar to a lost puppy. But then she suddenly positioned herself into a particular posture that a duelist was familiar with as she sheathed her sword and she pointed it at the young man when she said, ‘Many are nostalgic..but many are trapped in a systematic technological system that telecommunicates terabytes of trickery such that they see the system as the reference.’ And instantly she dashed to the left of the young man as she slightly crouched and at that moment she bended her wrist in the direction towards the young man’s legs in which she said in a cold, malicious tone, ‘Are you one of the technologically molested fools who wander this earth?’ His fear might have captured him but his instincts was still there as he drew out his shotgun pistol in his left hand and he pulled the trigger. A shotgun sound was emitted…but the sound of deflection was heard as well. A sword deflection which shocked the young man as he felt something grazed near his cheek. ‘What kind of sword deflects a shotgun barrel?’ he thought to himself. The woman moved back as she pointed her sword towards the ground as she said, ‘It seems that you aren’t huh. It seems they got tired of sending the puppets. Now I want something different, I want an organic, tense and a bloody duel with a clash of the different exertion of one’s tools against the other. Are you willing to participate in that type of duel, young man?’ The young man gulped and then breathed in and breathed out and resumed a similar posture as he said, ‘It still is a humiliation to lose to a woman in a physical fight isn’t it?’ The woman grinned as she said, ‘Indeed, it still is.’ After she said that, the young man put his shotgun pistol away and firmly gripped on his dagger as the woman felt a feeling of pity towards the young man as she said, ‘Ah the fragile ego of the young man, how amusing.’”