Crashing.
The battle did not end, the swords did not give, the storm did not clear. After their dragons collided, they continued to bite at each other, hissing and spewing energy from their mouths in their owners' attacks.
Crashing.
A piece of the castle ripped apart, drifting up into the moon.
Crashing.
Another piece of the castle burst as a horde of water blew out a window.
Crashing.
With each strike of their blades, a part of the castle was destroyed. It was as if they were standing on mounds of sand slowly being worked up by a storm that ripped it to shreds.
With a greater intensity in their eyes, they did not let up. Jumping from rock to debris, they dragged their dragons in an attempt to subdue their opponents. There was no grace or technique, just an exchange of blades that had no pause, break, or retreat.
For a moment in their exchange of blades, Shiro's brother saw an opportunity and came up with a dastardly plan.
