They faced each other off. As they warily circled each other, the Warrior broke the spell first. With a lunge and cry, he thrust his sword into his opponent.
Slash.
The Warrior winced in pain. His sword had missed his mark, his opponent neatly side-stepping him, while executing a counter-thrust. Of course! He can do that! How could I forget? But reprimands in a fight are no good.
To fight an opponent centuries old and vastly skilled is not easy. The Young Warrior was good. Nay. He was better than before. But he'd still have to fight harder. And smarter. While he now pranced around his opponent with ease, there was little actual damage that he appeared to do.
And this was borne out, for when the First Fight ended, and the two fighters stood panting, the first red streak appeared on the Warrior's flawless white. And the next. And the next one after that. White became red. Superficial in appearance, these cut deep. Expected, yet not expected. The warrior struggled to see even a single cut in his opponent's flesh.
His opponent smiled. If he had a doubt of this Warrior's abilities, they were probably soon disappearing.
And the Warrior? For him, it wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot.
(to be continued)
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