Eldoria
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Feedback on Fight Scene Visualization
Can you rate how visual the fight scenes in the following a chapter are in your mind as a reader?
The Battle of Detective Clara vs. Shadowmist Elite Erna
The night air froze between the two women standing in the mist-shrouded road. Dust settled slowly to the ground as the fog began to thicken once more.
To the east stood Clara, her fists clenched tight. To the west stood Erna, arms crossed calmly, her crimson eyes locked onto Clara’s green ones.
...
For a moment, the world went silent.
Erna reached into her pocket and flipped a silver coin into the air. The coin spun, gleaming faintly—then landed with a sharp ring.
“Cling…”
The sound was like a countdown. Both women lunged forward simultaneously—the battle had begun!
Clara reinforced her arms with mana, her strikes hardened by magic. She charged forward and threw a punch with all her might. Erna countered with her mist-infused fist.
When their blows met, the impact burst through the air—
“Wush!”
A shockwave shattered the surrounding fog.
The wind blew strongly towards the southeast, blowing the brown hair of a female senior advisor. Lady Serena shielded her eyes from the gust.
When she looked again, Clara gritting her teeth, fist locked against the double ponytail woman’s hand.
Across from her, Erna smiled faintly, blood trickling from her fingers.
Clara drew back her right arm and unleashed a flurry of rapid strikes, giving Erna no room to breathe.
Erna blocked each blow—right arm, left arm, again and again—each punch forcing her three feet backwards.
“If every suffering must be repaid with vengeance, then nothing will remain after the cycle ends!” Clara shouted.
She stopped, stomped hard, and leapt into the air, spinning her body midair. Her left leg crashed into Erna like a hammer.
“Thud!”
Erna was hurled ten feet away—“Brugh—kraak… krashhh!”—smashing into rubble as dust exploded outward.
Clara stood firm, fists trembling. Her green eyes burned with exhaustion and pain, yet her resolve remained unbroken.
“Did that do it?” she thought.
...
For a few moments, silence reigned.
Then a silhouette emerged through the settling dust—the double ponytail woman girl stood once again. She brushed her stomach, patted her thigh, and dusted off her arm.
“Not bad,” Erna said with a smirk. “But is that all, Miss Detective?”
“Have you been playing house for the past ten years? Where’s the genius detective the people once praised?” she mocked.
Clara said nothing. Her breathing grew heavy.
Erna straightened up. She clenched her fists until blood dripped from her fingers.
“I’ll show you what 'true suffering' means!”
She pressed her foot into the ground—cracks spread beneath her. Then—
“Wush!”
Clara’s eyes widened. Erna vanished from sight, reappearing right before her—so fast it looked like she’d merged with the fog.
“Urrghh!”
A punch slammed into Clara’s abdomen, knocking the air from her lungs.
“Krashh!”
She was sent flying fifteen feet before crashing hard onto the ground.
“Miss Clara!” cried Lady Serena.
Clara lay sprawled on the dirt. She staggered to her feet, swaying, and raised her hand toward her companions.
“Don’t come closer…”
She knew that if her allies helped, she would lose. She would not break the pact.
Lady Serena took a step forward. Clara signalling her not to come any closer.
Her shoulders tensed. However, someone grabbed her shoulder. Lady Serena looked back and saw Lieutenant Myra shaking her head.
"Don't come any closer, Lady Serena..." she said sadly.
"But..." Lady Serena bit her lip, then looked away. "Miss Clara... I hope you're not hurt," she thought.
Behind Lieutenant Myra, Commander Feroux stood tall, holding a young man whose eyes were closed. He clenched his hands, then sighed.
"Miss Clara... please—" he said softly, no one could hear him.
....
Dust and fog mixed and floated in the air. Clara clutched her stomach—it throbbed with pain, her abdomen bruised.
“I won’t give up,” she murmured between ragged breaths. “I won’t let the mist replace the law.”
Erna stood still, cold and unmoving. Then she began to walk forward slowly.
“Since the world has forgotten its sins, we have stopped hoping for salvation,” she said.
“Then I’ll stop you with everything I have,” Clara replied.
She activated her advanced, unique skill — [Eyes of Judgement: Truth or Lie].
This ability allowed her to peer into her opponent’s mind and perceive their intent.
Her green eyes glowed. She glimpsed into Erna’s thoughts.
“The world of Maledora took my father… now you all will taste our suffering. I want this world to burn!”
“Please, stop—” Erna’s younger voice trembled in her memories.
In front of her, knights advanced, ready to claim their ‘trophies.’
Clara closed her eyes briefly, pain lancing through them.
Her power didn’t just 'read' thoughts—it 'felt' the trauma behind them.
Yet Clara didn’t waver. She looked at the girl with compassion.
“Miss Erna… you’re lying to yourself. You’re just a little girl who still misses her father.”
Erna froze mid-step. Her crimson eyes flickered with confusion at the detective’s words.
“You… how do you—” she clenched her teeth. “Stop talking nonsense! I’m not a little girl!”
Erna pressed her foot into the ground until cracks spread beneath it. Then she lunged forward, her fist clenched tightly and wrapped in mist mana. She swung straight toward Clara’s face.
Clara did not panic—she shifted her shoulder to the right. Erna’s momentum carried her past, and she crashed hard into the ground behind her.
“Thud!”
Clara exhaled, her lips curving faintly.
“In my eyes, no truth can be hidden,” she said calmly.
“Stop lying to yourself! You’re not despairing at the world—you just want the world to hear your scream.”
Clara’s words struck Erna like a verdict. The woman struggled to rise, her shoulders trembling.
“SHUT UP!” Erna shouted and lunged again.
She aimed a punch at Clara’s stomach, but Clara sidestepped easily—she had already read every intent behind Erna’s movements.
“I’m not a little girl anymore!”
Erna attacked in fury—frontal, brutal, relentless. Her mist-coated fists shot toward Clara’s face, stomach, waist, and shoulders, but not a single strike landed. Clara had already foreseen every move.
Grinding her teeth, Erna twisted her body and used her heel—coated in mist mana—to strike.
Clara leapt backwards, twisting midair before landing firmly. Her violet hair swayed as Erna’s kick carved a gust through the mist. Clara stood ready, poised.
Seeing none of her attacks connect, Erna grew furious. She moved faster, blurring into the fog.
Suddenly, she appeared behind Clara and unleashed a flurry of blind strikes. Every blow carried the scream of a woman consumed by rage.
“Maledora’s world destroyed my life! I’ll burn every man to ash!” she roared.
Clara took three steps back, and a kick cracked the ground. She shifted her hips to the left, a punch striking the air to the right of her body.
Clara continued reading the flow of her intent, dodging every deadly swing without losing composure.
“I understand your pain. But if your father could see you now, he would be heartbroken,” she said softly.
Erna’s punches slowed. Her hands trembled.
Clara seized the moment—she kicked Erna hard in the stomach.
“Crashhh—!”
Erna slammed into the rocky ground, coughing dust. She staggered to her feet, glaring at Clara, her crimson eyes burning with hate.
“You cheated! You used a unique skill in a sacred duel!”
“Miss Erna… you never set any rules. I’m only using my ability,” Clara replied evenly.
“You—!” Erna bit her lip in frustration. “I’ll blow you to pieces!” she threatened.
She glared at Clara, fingers ready to snap. But Clara’s eyes glowed again—she dove into Erna’s mind.
"[Mist Weaponry: Explosion]—only one use left. Her Majesty forbade me from pushing myself too far," she read.
Clara glimpsed Erna’s memory: the young woman kneeling before a black-haired woman wearing a black and white kimono, Black Mist.
“Erna… you have become one of the Shadowmists. You now bear the essence of my mist,” said Black Mist.
“You possess great power… but there is a price. To activate your skill, you must wound your own finger. You must feel pain every time you use it—just as women have suffered pain in this world.”
Black Mist looked up at the palace ceiling and smiled faintly.
“I command you—use that skill no more than three times a day.”
Erna had paused then, before mustering the courage to ask,
“What will happen to me if I use it four times, Your Majesty?”
Black Mist inhaled deeply before answering. Her red eyes narrowed.
“At best, you’ll faint. At worst, you’ll die. The skill consumes your mist mana. Without it, you’ll become an empty shell.”
Clara’s eyes flickered, her lips lifting slightly.
“Stop bluffing! [Mist Weaponry: Explosion] can only be used three times a day, can’t it? Didn’t your mistress order that?”
“You… damn girl!” Erna cursed. “I’ll blow you apart!”
She aimed her trembling fingers at Clara, ready to snap.
"My skill’s still on cooldown. I have to stall for time," she thought.
Clara smirked. She reached into her coat and tossed a small black orb toward Erna.
“Fwoooosh—”
The orb burst, releasing a cloud of black smoke that engulfed her.
“What is this?! Cough—cough!” Erna wheezed, covering her mouth and eyes.
When the smoke cleared, her vision sharpened—and froze. The barrel of Clara’s magic pistol was inches from her face.
“I win. You must keep your word,” Clara said firmly.
Erna fell silent.
…
For a moment, everything was still. Then, she smirked—and laughed hoarsely.
“You exploited your opponent’s weakness and hesitation. You’re no naïve woman. Haha…” Her laughter echoed rough and bitter. “You win. You may go.”
Clara didn’t feel pleased by the so-called praise. She still held her pistol at the ready—until suddenly, Lady Serena shouted,
“Miss Clara—LOOK OUT!!”
Clara instinctively leapt backwards.
“Whoosh!”
An arrow struck the ground where she had been standing. The arrowhead shimmered faintly, wrapped in mist.
From the southwest, a woman with orange hair stood holding a bow. She wore dark clothing that blended seamlessly into the fog—just like Erna.
“You… you promised to let us go!” Clara snapped.
“I did promise—and I haven’t broken that promise. You can read my mind if you wish. But that’s me… not my comrade,” Erna said honestly.
Clara peered into her mind.
“I’ll let you go… but the other Shadowmists won’t. The world must taste our sorrow. Haha…” Erna’s thoughts whispered.
Her eyes throbbed. She took a moment to breathe.
...
Meanwhile, the orange-haired woman watching from behind the mist curtain called out to her partner.
“Erna, stop fooling around! We have to capture that detective girl,” she ordered sharply.
“Rima… I already tried to capture her, but she’s not as foolish as I expected. This time, I’ll leave her to you,” Erna replied.
Rima sighed, her gaze fixed on Clara and her companions through the shifting fog.
“So be it… You owe me a drink, Erna.”
She lowered her bow. Her red eyes narrowed.
Then, from behind her—through the fog—dozens of crimson eyes began to appear.
Two… three… six… ten… then dozens more. They glowed faintly, watching Clara and her group.
One by one, figures emerged—dressed in black and grey, moving in perfect unison, their steps soundless as though they were part of the mist itself. Rima turned to face them.
“Shadowmists… I’ll be troubling you tonight,” she said calmly.
…
The air grew suddenly colder.
Clara looked southwest... and she peered into their mind.
"The maledora world treats women like toys... and throws away those who are no longer useful," they thought.
“Aaaargh! Don’t kill us—no—!” screamed old village women as arrows rained down.
Clara shut her eyes tightly, covering her face with one trembling hand. Her eyes throbbed painfully, and from between her fingers, drops of blood fell.
Lady Serena froze in shock as she saw blood drip from Clara’s palm. She rushed to her side, followed by Lieutenant Myra and Commander Feroux.
“Miss Clara…!” she cried, catching her before she could collapse.
Clara opened her hand—her eyes were closed, yet blood trickled from the corners.
"Tess... tess..."
Lady Serena trembled. “Miss Clara, your eyes—what happened?!”
Clara bowed her head weakly, then opened her eyes; her vision blurred like a smudged mirror.
“This is the price I pay… for seeing the secrets of others,” she said with a strained smile.
Clara turned toward Rima, who stood poised among the other Shadowmists. She pressed a hand against her chest.
"Marry... how will I face the women the world has abandoned?" Clara muttered to herself and could feel it.
The battle was far from over.
Please answer by selecting an answer option based on the scale provided, with or without providing a reason.
The visual scale is explained below:
Scale | Level of Visualization | Descriptions | Characteristics |
| 5 | Cinematic | Like seeing the event live or watching a 4K movie. | Objects, distances, sounds (onomatopoeia), and colors are very specific. There's no ambiguity about position. |
| 4 | Clear | Easy to imagine with minimal focus. | Actions and reactions are well described, but the reader needs to fill in some background details themselves. |
| 3 | Transparent | Fairly easy, but requires full focus. | The flow of the attack is clear, but particle details (such as dust/sparks) may not automatically come to mind. |
| 2 | Opaque | Difficult to imagine and often vague. | Overuse of abstract adjectives (e.g., "massive attack") without supporting physical descriptions. |
| 1 | Abstract | Too vague/confusing. | The reader loses track of who is where or what is physically happening. |
Your feedback will help me evaluate fight narrative and help me narrate better fight scenes. Thank you for your help.
Best regards.
Critical Note:
It is recommended that you read through the chapter once without repeating it to gauge how immersive the scene is when read by a casual reader.
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