Kyle answered with precision. His sword moved sharp and deliberate, every motion efficient and controlled. He never lingered, never allowed himself to be caught under the weight of Dan's swings. He was a flame, slipping between gaps, striking and retreating, the flash of his blade like tongues of fire snapping at a beast that could not be consumed but also could not be ignored.
The crowd followed every movement with wide eyes, unable to blink.
On one side of the stands, cheers rose for Dan's brute power. They shouted his name, fists pumping into the air as if they themselves felt the weight of his blows.
On the other side, voices called for Kyle. His name rang out in smooth waves, supporters caught by the elegance of his movements, the princely grace with which he defied every thunderous strike.
