The storm raged on as if the celestial river had been turned upside down.
The trajectory of the flying dagger was as erratic as a meandering snake, devoid of any pattern.
Morison had gotten in close, and his long sword was at a significant disadvantage.
Zahak had no choice but to use this undesirable tactic, reversing his grip on the sword and quickly parrying with the hilt forged from mysterious steel.
Amidst quick movements and nimble dodges, short weapons clashed and sparks flew, only to be extinguished by the raindrops.
With a loud bang.
Morison was at a loss, his dagger was flung into a tree, piercing a hole in it instantly.
Just as Zahak thought he had the upper hand, as he reversed his sword to slash, Morison had already vanished from his line of sight.
