The sound of metal clashing resonated in the forest situated on the hill. Jackson and Quentin were akin to shadows, appearing and disappearing, meeting halfway. The only indicator of where they were was the sparks of their weapons.
After minutes of nonstop battle, their weapons screeched and rattled once more before they leaped away from each other.
Jackson flung his sword to the side, splitting the air cleanly. On the other hand, Quentin wiped the corner of his mouth with his index knuckle. Both were still perfectly fine as if the battle they had engaged with wasn't even worthy to call a warm-up.
"This brings me back to the good old days, Jackson," Quentin mused. "We used to spar together as well. Don't you remember?"
"I do." The corner of Jackson's lips curled up subtly. "And each time, I beat you."
Quentin arched a brow. "You beat me?"
