Raelith's mind was swirling in a storm of questions; he couldn't believe his eyes at this moment. He had looked forward to this spar for so long. It was something he had been anticipating, something he had prepared for mentally and physically.
He had never once believed Anthony could match him. Yes, Anthony was a genius, more talented than him even. That much he admitted. But that was then. This was now. And now, he, Raelith, was stronger.
He had risen through battles, honed his blade, and emerged as one of the strongest. Yet, as he watched Anthony meet him head-on with such terrifying ease, without faltering a single step, he felt a tinge of disbelief crawl up his spine.
Anthony's katana techniques were the epitome of what mastery should look like, as though he himself was a katana incarnate.
Raelith had held a katana long before he even awakened a class. He never once doubted, even as a young boy, that the katana was meant for him.
