The air burned with heat. The ground cracked with power. Sparks lit the haze until it seemed they fought in a world of smoke and fire.
The fight had become war.
Minutes stretched into more minutes, yet still neither yielded.
Each strike seemed heavier than the last, each clash more violent, each breath torn from their chests like fuel to keep the war alive. Sweat rolled freely down their faces, mixing with dust and blood, dripping into the cracks of the shattered arena floor. The air rang with the unending chorus of steel on steel, a song so relentless that the crowd almost forgot to breathe.
Time lost its meaning. It was no longer measured in seconds or heartbeats but in the crash of swords and the echoes of roars.
Finally, the inevitable happened.
Both fighters reached down into themselves, into the very core of what made them who they were. They drew upon their deepest strength, no longer holding back.
