Motavu was still relentlessly punching forward and blocking the sword with the side of his arm. His figure was riddled with cuts, both deep and shallow, and bleeding out intensively.
Ilyon on the other hand had a wicked grin akin to a madman plastered on his face as his body and sword never stopped moving.
Ilyon was using the difference in size to his advantage.
Motavu was bulky and powerful, but slow.
He on the other hand was fairly slim, very agile, but with a weaker body.
But what did it matter when your opponent was too slow to harm you? This was the result of such a situation.
Motavu became a sitting duck for Ilyon, who also had far more battle experience and training.
Ilyon made sure to savor the battle as much as he could, and to do so, he deliberately toyed with Motavu, making clear the difference between them as his face held a smile of madness stretched across his face, as well as ecstasy from seeing Motavu in such a state.
