"Puh!" Blood spurted.
"Ah!" Cheka grunted.
"Hmph." The Witch Demon Elder snorted disdainfully, "Are you sure you're really good at close combat? With your skills, you're not even as good as a child." The Witch Demon Elder was telling the truth; in his view, Cheka's close combat skills were indeed not as good as a child's—Pandora.
Cheka listened but didn't respond, instead channeling energy into his wound to control the injury and prevent it from worsening, silently continuing his fight with the Witch Demon Elder.
The Witch Demon Elder was not polite, swiftly swinging the dagger, and within seconds, found an opening and stabbed again, creating a second wound on Cheka's body.
Cheka grunted again, remaining silent, persistently battling the Witch Demon Elder.
And so, in the blink of an eye, several minutes passed.
Cheka's body bore more than a dozen wounds of various sizes, his clothes tattered, looking utterly wretched.
