Raphael and Melville were both visibly exhausted, and their breaths had weights on them after performing their divine art techniques a few seconds ago. Their garments were torn and drenched in their own blood.
They had been fighting for a relatively long time, and both of them had drained the majority of their stamina. They were able to tell themselves, probably, that they could only pull off one final big move.
"Alright, I think that our fight won't have an outcome if we counter each other. So for the next strike, I will be going to give my all and finish the fight right away, win or lose."
As he said that sentence, Raphael posed a stance and leveled his sword horizontally with his eye. Melville saw that and immediately understood that he really intended to put all his power into it.
