The atmosphere was thick with tension as Dylan and Deamon squared off in the open space, their spiritual energy crackling in the air. The ground beneath them seemed to pulse with anticipation, a testament to the immense power these two warriors wielded.
All, both warriors of Chiron and the remaining senators watched closely.
Dylan's eyes blazed with determination as he drew his broadsword, the blade shimmering with a radiant light of his stone rank. Deamon mirrored his movements, unsheathing his thinner, elegant sword that glowed with a fierce intensity. They locked gazes, the blood oath they had taken binded not just their fates, but also the fates of those around them.
With a roar, Dylan lunged forward, his spiritual energy surging through his body. His broadsword came down in a powerful arc, aiming for Deamon's shoulder. After all, this was his friend and brother he had grown up with. the goal was to win the fight, and not kill him.
