Clank!
Lancelot parried yet another of Trys' powerful sword slashes that swung in from his back.
"Shit! Not again!" Trys blurted out. The Nortvardian mage fell back and panted, gripping the hilt of his sword ever tightly.
"He's not even moved an inch from there," Trys wondered.
Trys was concerned that all his efforts to shake the foe in front of him had been in vain. Lancelot had only used his in unsheathed blade until now, even boasting to Trys that he was strong as to make him unsheathe Arondight.
No matter how much and the manner he thought about it, Trys could only come to a single conclusion. "This man is dangerous," he thought to himself and indeed, Lancelot was what Trys attributed him to be.
"In that case..." Trys muttered before releasing a surge of magical energy from his body and charging towards Lancelot once more.
