Amidst the clash of Altair and Varis, hurling blows powerful enough to topple mountains raged across dawn and twilight as their weapons thundered across the heavens.
Varis was like a fiend, his face twisted into something that couldn't resemble man but a monster from the deepest pit of hell. The battle should have ended twelve hours ago amidst their first clash, or so he believed, as his spear crossed against the flying Vale Sword. He couldn't believe such power could exist in a sword made out of raw energy. More than that, he couldn't believe it came from someone who was only a third circle.
'No! He should be nearly out of Mana!' Varis thought, craning his head as Altair blitzed his flank. His spear moved to intercept the sword, lancing towards his throat. He grimaced, embers flaring across his pupils, striking across flesh like the lashing of rain against the earth.
