Spear and great swords met in an endless torrent of attacks. Every collision caused shards of whistling wind to fly out in all directions. It was the kind of display of power that made one cringe and turn your head away, worried that their bodies wouldn't be able to handle what came next and find itself bent awkwardly and out of shape.
However, the wild grins on both of their faces seemed to paint a different picture entirely. They were completely relentless, even when they were pushed to the ground, they sprung back up like springs, already prepared for the next ten exchanges.
BANG!
The two were forcefully separated, finding themselves on opposite sides of the arena. Their breathing was even and deep, the thumping of their hearts and the rushing of their blood booming like drums and falling like waterfalls.
Myghell exhaled a deep breath, a fog rising up from his swords as though they were being seared with heat.
"Dying Embers of Dusk."
