Both opponents stood locked in a silent battle of wills, their gazes fierce and unwavering, each daring the other to falter. The murmurs of the spectators rippled like restless waves, a backdrop to the tension that hung heavy in the air. Nyxander adjusted his stance, his fists clenched tightly across his body, muscles taut like a coiled spring.
Across the arena, Kal gripped his sword with both hands, swinging it effortlessly to his right. The blade sliced through the air with a sharp voom, its weight sinking into the thick soil behind him, a predatory beast waiting to strike.
