The sword in the girl's hands, brimming with anger, brushed past Baron Dawson's sword. Its blade twirled a whirlwind-like pattern, swiftly bypassing resistance and striking towards his head.
Baron Dawson desperately retreated, raising his left arm to barely block the dangerous strike aimed at his face with his arm armor. The blade grazed his cheek, leaving a shallow bloody trace.
In that instant, Baron Dawson began to regret removing his helmet and neck guard earlier to eat lamb.
The girl didn't give him a moment to breathe after her initial miss; her stabbing blows enveloped him like a fierce storm.
The crisp sound of clashing weapons echoed instantly like ping-pong sounds of hammering, each of the girl's thrusts as quick as a venomous snake, the sword's tip directly targeting the enemy's only unprotected face.
