Tristan had formulated a very lovely plan for his round against Artoria. He had successfully set this plan into action by gaining distance, and produced a situation in his onslaught which would force the woman into a fair bit of maneuvering. All he had to do from that moment on was capitalize on what he'd accomplished thus far. Sadly, Artoria's ability did not allow for such a thing. Artfully shifting around his onslaught, she drew closer and closer, appearing within striking distance before he could manage a proper reaction. In fact, Tristan had yet to even recover from his post-leap landing.

Eyes wide, he aimed to raise his bow... but to no avail. The woman's sword halted his movements by its position alone. "Ngh!" A simple utterance came to a sudden halt as well. Tristan's mouth fell agape only slightly, stopping by the sensation of his chin pressing against the tip of Artoria's blade. He'd have been dead already, had this been a proper battle. Even in a training scenario such as the present, he could feel sweat forming upon his brow. Then... there was the question of what he would do next. Did she truly expect something more of him after an immediate and clear defeat? No, he couldn't think that way; this was a round for general betterment. Tristan would be doing Artoria and himself each a disservice if he conceded after stepping up to the challenge. He could certainly manage something.

Another stroke of his bowstrings occurred, though not for the sake of unleashing another volley. This time, he seemed to be plucking the strings as if they were an instrument, which in fact they were; his entire bow was nothing more than a harp. He played a beautiful sonata that brought with it vacuums in the form of wisps. Said wisps would writhe and contort, surrounding Artoria until they were primed to close in and ensnare the woman, binding her core and every limb along with it. "Gomennasai. I didn't mean to disappoint you so quickly."