Drip
Drop
Blood dripped onto the ground as two young men silently stared at each other.
Evandro clutched at the wound seeping crimson beneath his torn shirt, his face a mix of rage and disbelief.
Across from him, Elion stood unwavering, his katana still crackling with arcs of lingering lightning. His expression remained calm, a stark contrast to the deadly intensity of their clash.
Elion understood that an opponent like Evandro wouldn't fall for the same trick twice. He remained patient, not rushing into another attack. Instead, he assessed the battlefield calmly.
Evandro was the first to break the tense silence, his impatience flaring. He couldn't allow his plan to fail, nor could he bear the humiliation of losing to a junior far beneath him in strength.
