Edith sat on the ground, her back resting against a tree, eyes fixed on the battle before her. As she had predicted, Davion clearly had the upper hand. Despite the fury he'd shown earlier, she could tell he wasn't fighting at full force.
Perhaps it was because she'd asked him not to kill the vampire. Even so, his strength was undeniable. The way he wielded his sword was almost artistic, his movements smooth and precise.
It wasn't long before his opponent was driven to his knees. Davion tore the mask from his face, revealing a bloodied man coughing violently, fresh wounds covering his body. A deep gash along his side forced him to clutch it tightly in an attempt to stem the bleeding.
"I suppose it was his mistake to come here without a weapon, no matter how confident he felt," Edith murmured, recalling how she had once seen him in Novara, skillfully wielding a sword.
The man's gaze was razor-sharp as he glared at Davion, his teeth grinding so hard Davion could hear it.
