Every opponent was different. This was a fact that Shadow had learned long ago. Though individual nuances were always infinitely varied, however, nearly every person could be set into one of three categories. First was the aggressive fighters, a category that the Priest would argue most people fell in. These were people that fought with their hearts more than their heads, that let their emotions guide their power. Such individuals could display incredible feats of strength, but only for as long as their adrenaline rush lasted. They also were prone to acting without thinking, which could often be detrimental if they failed to exercise proper caution.

Then, there were those who were more calculative. Such individuals were prone to being a bit more reserved about their strength rather than diving in head first to a situation without at least a vague plan. These people took the time to study and test their opponents, to conserve their strength and wait until they found an opportunity to make a hard, effective strike. They were disciplined and patient. This was the camp where Shadow fell.

The final category were the wildcards, and they were individuals who had no real rhyme or reason in a fight. They were there for the challenge, enjoyed being surprised, and generally went with the flow of whatever fight was presented to them. If the Priest had to made a guess as to where Monica fit in, this would be the one. A wildcard typically straddled the line between aggressive and calculative, following either heart or head depending on what they felt fit best for the situation.

As Shadow's fist collided with Monica's face, there was hardly any surprise. The mage suspected that the tattooed woman let the first couple hits make their mark in order for her to gauge at least a portion of her opponent's strength. Monica hardly seemed shy about getting hit, so the near lack of resistance to the attack was almost expected in a way. There was no response as the bald woman complimented Shadow's power. Instead, the Priest waited patiently and silently for Monica to offer a return volley of strikes.

And boy did she.

The kick met Shadow's torso with hardly any attempt to block it, the force of the blow sending the Priest flying backward. Shadow's fully garbed body twisted in the air to stick a rough landing in the loose sand, golden grit spraying into the air. The Priest's head pulled back enough to dodge the cranial hammer fist, but the second punch landed squarely in Monica's intended target on Shadow's forehead. The final two strikes were swiftly and deftly blocked, resulting in the pair facing off against one another in almost the exact same positions they had been after the Priest's attack, only this time with Shadow holding the block.

"You are as tough as you seem," was the simple remark, though it seemed a compliment. "So now that we've both gotten the chance to get a mild feel on one another's capabilities..." Shadow pushed heavily against Monica to create distance between them before leaping backward. Before the Priest's wrapped feet could land back in the sand, however, the mysterious figure flicked a wrist almost dismissively and faded out of sight. Though the lecturing mages were certainly powerful enough to still see Shadow, the rest of the students all gasped in surprised and looked around with wide eyes, asking one another where Monica's opponent had gone.

And in truth, Shadow's feet never even touched back down on the sand. The moment the Priest had gone invisible they had also stayed in the air, flying to the side and up above Monica. Would the bald woman be able to follow Shadow's path? Only one way to find out. Flying silently, the garbed figure shot quickly down toward Monica, aiming to strike the woman from above with a fully locked and loaded fist, no holding back.

Just how Monica would like it.

The Priest's opponent didn't appear to be able to see through the spell, but perhaps it was little more than a ruse? If it wasn't, then Monica had exceptionally lucky timing. Shadow hurled toward the woman, but she disappeared into the shadows at her feet. A frown took over the pilgrim's crimson eyes. The woman was gone, but her shadow remained? It couldn't be that easy. Something was wrong, and there was only one way to find out what.

As Shadow neared the ground, they shifted their posture from offensive to defensive. Wrapped arms crossed over the veiled face to protect it, and the Priest's body tightened to accept an incoming blow. Interestingly, the blow came but it did so a couple beats after Shadow actually expected it to. First the Priest fell through the sand, which was a bit unexpected. The defensive position came in handy though as Monica's fist hit home almost immediately upon Shadow falling through the other side.

The Priest's body flew back, arms taking the brunt of the blow. The sand sprayed outward in a wave where Shadow skidded along it before leaping back into the air; a sight that drew shocked gasps from the other to-be mages that were incapable of actually seeing Shadow, who remained invisible. Monica, however, would likely notice that if she looked hard enough she could see Shadow. The Priest was completely transparent to her, and it would still be difficult to completely defend herself, but she could keep track of her opponent's position at the very least.

And though Monica had scored a hard hit, Shadow was quick to bounce back. There was no hesitation as the garbed mage leaped back into the air and flew to Monica's side before diving right back at the woman. This time, however, the Priest didn't stay far enough away to give the tattooed warrior much time to pull another disappearing act. Shadow hurled toward Monica once more, fists moving with deliberate precision toward any areas that the woman left open, focusing heavily on her upper torso and face.