Azaron and Valentine moved with effortless grace and lethality, every movement from each of them meant to kill the other once and for all. They did not aim to injure, they did not aim to cripple, they did not aim for anything that was not death itself. They moved with the certainty that the other would dodge, they moved with the certainty that the other would block, they moved with the certainty that the other would counterattack, they moved with the certainty that the other would retaliate in kind, without hesitation or mercy.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
They tore into one another like mortal enemies who could and could never exist within the same plane of existence, as though they were beings fated to clash as long as they were both alive at the same point in time. Their weapons screamed with every collision, the sound echoing like a funeral bell tolling again and again, announcing death that refused to arrive.
