human
Al:  “Dooonaaa!” Around scenario twenty by his count, he tried a desperate burst of magic. No aim, just an incantation, the spell sending the flagstones atop the bridge flying. Specifically, flying toward the Hornet, giving her something to swing her swords at other than Al. Al seized the instantaneous opening, taking his life in his hands as he rushed in, just barely dodging the first riposte. Then he had some distance, and knowing he had cleared the first deadly hurdle, he—
gpt
Al:  “Hrgh!” —was about to let out a sigh of relief when a blow from above crushed his head.
human
Hornet:  “Don’t die too easily.”
gpt
Al:  “Dooonaaa!” Starting from the moment he’d intoned his magic, he jumped backward, coordinating his movements with those of the stone debris. Then without so much as taking a breath, he leaped to the side. A howling blow slammed into the floor, making it seem as if the whole bridge was shaking violently. The Hornet, with one great blade lodged in the ground, twisted, closing in on Al with a strike that smashed through the hallway. Al jumped over the crushing blow, and then his thrust reached the Hornet. Unfortunately, she batted away his most powerful attack like he were a biting insect.
human
Hornet:  “That’s what I wanted! Oh, my sweet Al, I knew you could do it!”
gpt
Al:  “You think? I’ve been fightin’ this whole time with my life flashing before my eyes. I think I’m out of my league!” With apologies to the suitably pleased Hornet, she and Al were all but living in different worlds. She might see him as someone who dug deep and found the ability to rise to an occasion when there was a real crisis—but in Al’s opinion, the longer the fight went on, the more worn down he got; that was how it always went. Whenever he found himself confronted with the truly strong like this, he had the same thought: I could never be like them. It wasn’t because of his one arm, and it wasn’t because of his age. It was more fundamental, something to do with his basic makeup as a living being. There was a famous proverb that went Why is the tiger strong? Because she’s a tiger. It was just like that. The strong were strong because they were born strong. The weak were weak because they were born weak. Nothing more, nothing less. And so…
human
Hornet:  “I’m not done yet! Let’s have a little more fun!” said the strong one, the Hornet, gleefully bringing her blades to bear. And Al, the weakling, would most likely be crushed, trampled underfoot many more times—tens, hundreds, thousands.