Dale, Seraphim, and Reynold watched with expressions of utter shock, their faces frozen in disbelief. They could scarcely comprehend what they had just witnessed. When the conversation had arisen about a spar between Anthony and Kingsley, their imaginations had run wild.
They had expected an intense exchange, a storm of attacks raining down in literal endless and continuous succession: defense and counterattacks, parries and martial techniques unleashed with precision, perhaps even destruction on a cosmic scale, asteroids pulverized, stars ignited, planets shattered.
Their minds had conjured visions of titanic clashes, cataclysmic energy surges, the very fabric of reality bending under the weight of their duel. Yet before them, none of it had manifested. None of the spectacle they had envisioned had occurred. Initially, Anthony had intended to exchange only a few attacks with Kingsley, testing him lightly.
