Sigurd's body rushed forward with calculated strides. Her speed and grace were beyond measure, swinging her blade twice like a flowing river aiming towards Asura's chest and neck. The young man calmly blocked them with his sword, and then the two of them began their dance.
With a flash of blue and silver, their bodies intertwined. A dance of grace and power. Their blades swung and parried, and the sound of metal striking metal rang out in a constant rhythm.
It was not a one-sided duel. Asura's defence was not to be underestimated, and the occasional flash of his blade could penetrate Sigurd's defences.
However, for every strike he delivered, the saintess struck back three times.
"You have improved so much Asura. What a wonderful technique, but your swordsmanship is still lacking behind your raw abilities."
