The recited clash between steels created chorales that subdued the furors in their wielder's surroundings. Both players owned a distinct sense of rhythm to one another, reflecting the uniqueness of their past. One had a faster tempo with admirable techniques, while the other was decisive with polished basics. Despite their fierce contrasts, the two beats synthesized into a harmonic tune. A dirge to mourn the fallen, and an accolade to celebrate the one standing at the end.
The question was who's going to fill the role of the defeated and defeater?
In the latest clash, the commander's heavyweight blade was repelled to above his head by a half-arc swing from the platinum ranker's versatile pole.
At that instant of powerlessness where Osmond's big arms felt light, in the fluidity of a master artisan, Arte lunged his leg to assault the old man's wounded flank that was devoid of protection from his armor.
