EPTArena
Thrust. Thrust. Parry. Counter. Dodge. Strike. Strike. Parry.
Barov grimaced as he felt his body sag under the weight of the blow. The rumors were true, he sighed. The man's attacks were quicker than lightning. Barov had barely got his swords up in time to block that attack. Unfortunately, the rumors hadn't prepared him for how hard the man hit. Then again, Barov wasn't too surprised - there was probably nobody left alive that could tell the tale. The man was truly a living legend. There were no sign of weariness in his eyes, no sign of past battles fought on his body - save a small scar across his cheek. Suddenly, the broadsword flashed out again, interrupting his thoughts.
Strike. Dodge. Parry. Parry. Strafe. Strike. Strafe. Parry.
The scarred man grinned as he raised his broadsword to fend off the flurry of blows his opponent presented. He had never seen such discipline and control from a man who used any sort of dual-sword style. He leveled his broadsword, awaiting his opponent's next attack. His respect for his opponent grew with each blow - he was young, but fought like a seasoned veteran. A pity, the scarred man thought. The difference in their skills was as different as night and day. The scarred man smiled as he felt his opponent's attacks glance off his broadsword. He knew the attacks were merely to probe his defenses. Unfortunately, he would find no weakness, thought the scarred man. His defenses were impenetrable.
Thrust. Feint. Strike. Feint. Thrust. Thrust. Strafe. Counter.
The scarred man's defenses were truly impenetrable, thought Barov. He could feel fatigue beginning to set in, and each clang of steel felt like sand falling from an hourglass. Focus, he told himself. Barov cleared his mind, hearing only the clash of swords ring out in his mind. His thoughts wandered back to the lessons his father taught him. "When faced with a seemingly insurmountable opponent, sometimes you must be patient and wait for an opportunity to present itself", he recalled his father saying. Patience wasn't something that came easy to young Barov. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long. He saw the thrust coming from a mile away. Faster than lightning, he lowered his swords and executed a dual-cross counter, locking his opponent's broadsword to the ground. He was promptly rewarding with a boot to the face.
The scarred man smirked as he watched the man tumble away. He raised his arms in celebration. The crowd roared in response, and his opponent merely spat out blood. The scarred man embraced all of it. He admired his opponent for having the guts to make such a bold manuever. Frankly, he would have been disappointed had he not. Still, the exchange was simply a painful reminder of the large skill gap between them. After all, I am a legend, the scarred man mused. He parted his bangs and waited patiently for his opponent to regain his footing. Such a man deserved to die on his feet, he decided. It truly was a pity, he thought, as be readied his broadsword. Those who aren't willing to die will never find victory, my friend. Ready or not, the scarred man flashed forward, his broadsword leaping out in front.
"You have to be willing to die" - words he recalled his father once saying. He understood. "Today, a titan falls", Barov whispered. He lept to the side, just in time to avoid a flash of steel. He swung his sword in response, using his weight to add power to his blows. Steel locked with steel, and in a flash, both men snapped away. Barov stood straight and faced the sun, locking eyes with a living legend. He readied his swords for the next attack, but the scarred man just stood there. He wore a grin of pure amusement on his face. Barov could feel the sweat drip off his body. The scarred man looked his polar opposite; no trace of fatigue could be found. Barov waved one of his swords, taunting the scarred man forward. He bit. Faster than lightning, Barov adjusted his sword, and held his breath.
He dashed forward, broadsword thrusting out as fast as lightning, His unprotected eyes suddenly winced shut as the sun's rays unexpectedly returned his gaze. The scarred man was largely unconcerned. Either he would feel the weight of the parry, or he would stop himself before he overshot the dodge. He felt his sword sink into flesh. Or he could kill him. He was about to smile, until he felt in warm sensation in his chest. He reopened his eyes, only to see a flash of steel. His eyes met light no more.
Barov smiled as he loosened his grip. Time seemed to slow as he watched Ryusei, the "Lightning God", tumble to the ground. Silence greeted him as he fell to his knees. For the first time in his life, everything felt so peaceful. A warm feeling came over him. His eyes wandered from the stunned faces of the crowd to the lifeless body of a then-living legend, and finally to the jewel encrusted hit protruding from his chest. A warm feeling came over him. Barov smiled again, welcoming the darkness that rose up to greet him.
-Jugan
would like to see some more!. 
