"Make your move, young man."
An elderly man with a lean build and handsome Eastern face that seemed like a ladykiller in his prime stood with a simple wooden katana in his right hand.
Across the room, he faced the exhausted Lancelot wearing a white training outfit and holding the same wooden sword of a Western type in both hands.
His body was completely covered in small bruises from the wooden blade hits.
'This old man is strong!' Lancelot thought, his eyes shining bright, focused on the old man as they turned yellow and locked onto his body as if to learn everything the man had to display.
Lowering his body, Lancelot shot forward his right foot first before lifting his left blade to meet the old man's rapid slash from diagonally above—with a resounding crack.
However, he used the force and momentum of their strikes to adjust his stance and slash again from overhead with more power.
"Shhh!" The old man exhaled with a short, powerful breath.
"Hah!"
