Azrael raised his sword and brought it down in a swift arc; his movements were precise and deadly. The sound of metal clashing against metal rang out in the training yard as he struck again and again, sweat dripping from his brow. His muscles ached with effort, but he forced himself to keep going, his focus unwavering.
Across from him, his opponent, a tall and lithe figure with dark hair swept back from his face, was a vampire named Kato, a fierce warrior who had helped fight many battles and had served to tell the tale. His countenance was cold and impassive, like a statue carved of ice.
With each blow, Kato's movements were as quick and sure as Azrael's own, but Azrael could sense the weariness in his stance, the slight hesitation that told him they were tiring. He pressed his advantage, lunging forward with a sudden burst of energy.
