Their blades clashed again, the air erupting with thunderous cries of metal, as if the very world recognized the magnitude of their duel.
Raelith's katana curved upward in a merciless cleave, sharp and fluid like a tide of silver. But Anthony met it head-on, his katana rising with flawless control, intercepting the strike with the edge aligned, the timing exact, the clash ringing like a sacred bell.
No movement was wasted.
No step was retreat.
Anthony shifted his stance, not backward but sideways within the circle of combat, his wrists rotating with precise economy as he guided Raelith's next descending blow away from his shoulder and immediately countered with a rising arc toward the throat.
Raelith's blade intercepted it mid-curve, steel crashing against steel in a dazzling flash of sparks that lit the shadows around them.
Again.
And again.
