The blade glimmered like a crescent moon; the spear flared into a burning sun.
The trees and mountain rocks obstructing the duel between the two were as fragile as tofu, shattering at the slightest touch.
The clash of the two Great Knights resembled two Tyrannosauruses crushing through a forest.
Galron, surrounded by red flames, swung his war axe relentlessly, each slash refusing to pause for even a moment.
Arsen, bereft of his companion of many years—his long weapon—faced the onslaught with a war saber significantly shorter than the war axe. He resisted the ferocious strikes of an adversary whose martial arts were no lesser than his own. He dared not directly confront the searing, ignited spear blade, and for a time, his inability to counterattack left him in a rather vulnerable state.
"Name yourself! ...Does no one respect the etiquette of knights anymore?"
Seizing a brief moment to pull away, Count Arsene shouted indignantly.
