⟬ The next sun, late morning... ⟭
It had been some time since Tycondrius last heard the mournful sobs of Stephanos, the Fierce Knight.
The previous evening, the Gorgon had challenged him to a duel.
He didn't want to bother with it.
Stephanos' fighting ability relied on the strength, speed, and resilience of his unique body. Tycon's physique had developed to the cusp of Adamantine-Rank, thus was stronger, faster, and (theoretically) more resilient.
A duel with the Gorgon had little value. There was no challenge. It would not improve his acumen as a martial fighter. It would not impress anyone he particularly cared for. Even the notion of breaking half the bones in Stephanos' body sounded banal.
And during the bout... the likelihood was high that Tycon would suffer a bruise or... dent a perfectly good weapon.
And afterward... then the Gorgon would surely pout or whine.
