'Heavy…" He grunted to himself. The blows felt like there was even more to them than before. Even timing it in accordance with the strange arc that Talon made, the blows wracked his whole body.
They wracked his body, and the pain was hardly bearable – yet he endured it. Where he had been unable to even stand a single blow before, now, he could at least parry them. There was something there to be had, something to be celebrated. Celebrations would have to wait, though, when death still swung so near. As ever, Oliver found that he could not properly enjoy what little progress he had, not without transforming it into something even more special.
Enduring Talon's strike, Oliver sent back one of his own, putting a dangerous amount of force in it, leaving himself open to counters. He knew he ought to have built towards such an attack, step by step, but he was eager to assert at least some sort of advantage whilst the ground remained even.
