Under the distant moon's perfect glow, two formidable Knights were at each other's throats. The atmosphere was cozy and lush, an ideal time for a pleasant evening, but not for these two. All they could smell was blood and each other's murderous intent.
Spector's movements contradicted his previous demeanor. They were violent and aggressive. He seemed desperate and deeply wounded within.
This was exactly what Halo had wanted. It gave him control over the fight's tempo, but Spector's raw power was something he hadn't anticipated.
With his shoulder wrenched, he couldn't rely on strength, only skill and experience to redirect the attacks. Exhaustion crept through his arms, but he couldn't let his confidence slip.
Mid-swing, Spector's blade disappeared. Halo's momentum faltered, but his composure held strong. In a flash, he shifted Magnus into a dagger and drove it toward Spector's throat.
He narrowly avoided the attack and put a distance between himself and Halo.
