Tharion pushed himself upright, blood soaking his leg where the blade had pierced him. He forced a faint, stubborn grin. "I'm not done with you," he said through gritted teeth.
Kyrion's eyes were cold. "You still talk when you don't even understand the position you're in," he replied. "If you move like that, I'll go all out."
Tharion frowned, then steadied himself. All out in defense, that's everything I have left, he thought. He planted his feet and raised his sword, bracing for the onslaught.
Kyrion surged forward, slashing in a furious, unrelenting rhythm. Tharion met each blow, holding a pure defensive stance, blade clashing against blade as sand and sparks flew. Kyrion's strikes were relentless, each one trying to force an opening.
"You've decided to only defend?" Kyrion snarled between strikes. "That's meaningless. Die."
