*SWOOSH!*
*SHING!*
*CLANG!*
Again and again, we collided and clashed. The intensity of the fight was the highest I had ever experienced, and yet there were no underlying emotions behind it. I did not know this person, and he or she did not know me. We only fought because we were supposed to.
The person's close-quarters techniques was so effective when combined with the uncanny clothing article he wore, that I was getting more and more pressed. At the rate it was going, I was going to die. And not in the way I would have expected.
I was only avoiding those stray beams because I was following my opponent. But if I ended up being completely pushed back, I would have to be the one taking the initiative when it came to moving. I did not have the skill to do so, so I would probably end up being impaled on one of the beams almost immediately.