Ravager stood tall, his jagged blade resting over his shoulder. Kenji rose slowly, rotating one arm to shake off the impact of the kicks, then gripping his twin swords in reverse grip.
"You're better than I thought," Kenji said.
"Likewise," Ravager replied, adjusting his stance. "Let's stop holding back."
No banter. No theatrics.
They moved.
Their blades clashed in an instant—metal ringing with rapid precision. Kenji spun his right blade upward to deflect a horizontal slash, then pivoted on his heel, bringing the left around for a low sweep. Ravager hopped back half a step, dragging the edge of his blade against Kenji's, letting the friction force it wide. He countered with a rising strike aimed at Kenji's ribs, but Kenji turned, the flat of his left sword knocking it aside.
Kenji retaliated with a downward cross slash—left and right blades cutting in an X pattern.
Ravager caught both strikes on his sword, blocking them simultaneously, though the weight drove him back a foot.
They broke apart.
Both exhaled.
Kenji dashed in first this time, fainting a thrust before hooking his left sword in a feint, causing Ravager to react high. In that instant, Kenji spun and slashed from below with the right, trying to catch his opponent off-balance.
Ravager twisted his body, dropping one knee as the blade cut through empty air, and countered with a backhand slash aimed at Kenji's thigh.
Kenji twisted mid-step, narrowly avoiding the hit. He struck downward, trying to trap Ravager's blade under both of his. Ravager resisted, holding strong. For a moment, they pushed against each other, strength meeting strength, swords grinding with a shrill scream.
Then they both kicked off.
Another flurry.
They exchanged a series of lightning-fast cuts—slash, parry, counter—moving in tight circles, blades scraping, clashing, darting with bone-cutting speed. Neither let the other breathe. A high arc from Ravager was deflected, and Kenji responded with a stabbing flourish, his blade twisting toward the throat. Ravager tilted his head aside and headbutted him.
Kenji staggered back a step—only to lunge forward again.
Ravager swung overhead. Kenji crossed both swords into an X, stopping the blow. Sparks danced across the steel. The impact sent tremors down his arms, but he held firm.
"Strong," Ravager said with a crooked grin.
"You haven't seen anything yet," Kenji replied, shoving the blade off.
Kenji then feinted low and spun into a tornado-like movement, aiming for Ravager's waist with a whirling double slash. Ravager leapt over the first blade, and parried the second in mid-air, using his sword to vault himself over Kenji and land behind him.
But Kenji was ready.
He reversed his left grip and sliced backward without turning his head. Ravager parried it, barely, and countered with a heavy slash aimed at Kenji's shoulder. Kenji ducked under it and brought both blades up in a reverse rising arc.
Ravager blocked one blade—but the other nicked his cheek.
A single red line appeared.
They both paused.
Ravager licked the blood. "You got me."
Kenji flicked his swords, resetting his grip. "First hit's mine."
"Not for long."
Ravager charged again, this time changing his entire rhythm. His strikes came from odd angles—wide loops, heavy slams, sudden jerks. Kenji adapted on instinct, redirecting the momentum of each blow with sharp footwork and fluid parries. He was reading Ravager now. Not just his sword, but his shoulders, hips, elbows—where the blade would go before it got there.
Kenji ducked one of Ravager's slashes, then spun and elbowed him in the ribs. Ravager grunted and shoved him back. The two locked blades once more—Kenji's twin swords pushing against Ravager's jagged greatsword.
This time, Kenji twisted his blades like a scissor lock and attempted to disarm him.
But Ravager let go.
In that moment, Ravager stepped in and punched Kenji square in the jaw.
Kenji stumbled.
Ravager snatched his sword back out of the scissor lock and brought it down—but Kenji recovered and rolled aside, slicing low at Ravager's legs.
Ravager jumped. Kenji followed him mid-air and struck upward with both blades.
The force launched Ravager higher, but he twisted and landed behind Kenji again.
Kenji turned and crossed blades just in time, blocking a slash aimed for his neck.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Kenji said.
"I live for this," Ravager growled.
Then it changed.
They both shifted into a faster rhythm.
What came next wasn't just a duel—it was an art form. A dance of blades, perfected through blood and battle. Each move countered the last, each strike calculated down to muscle memory. Kenji stepped inside Ravager's swing, twisted his wrist, and turned the sword just enough to redirect it past his hip, then delivered a double slash to Ravager's side.
Ravager parried the first but missed the second—it grazed his ribs.
"Second hit."
Ravager retaliated with a vicious knee to the gut. Kenji blocked it with his forearm and jumped back, breathing heavily.
Their swords were chipped now. Sweat beaded their brows. Arms trembled from the force of constant impact. But their eyes remained locked—not with hate, but understanding.
They charged once more.
Kenji twisted his torso and swept low; Ravager parried and spun into a rising vertical strike. Kenji jumped, reversed his grip mid-air, and brought both blades down.
Ravager blocked—but staggered.
Kenji landed, rolled, and launched forward with a double thrust, both swords aimed at Ravager's chest. Ravager turned sideways, the blades grazing his armor, and brought his sword crashing down.
Kenji blocked. His knees buckled.
They both jumped back again.
"You're still standing," Kenji said.
"So are you."
And then they went for the final clash.
Kenji narrowed his eyes, shifting his blades into a new stance—one fluid, coiled, precise. Ravager widened his stance, gripping his sword with both hands, the edge pointed low.
They moved in one last time.
Kenji's blades were a blur—spinning, stabbing, slicing. Ravager's sword moved like thunder, crashing into Kenji's with brute force, but always a half-second behind the speed.
Then Kenji stepped in, twisted, ducked under Ravager's final slash—and both blades struck.
Kenji's left blade touched Ravager's throat.
Ravager's sword stopped inches from Kenji's heart.
They froze.
The air between them tightened, both fighters heaving from exhaustion.
"…Draw?" Ravager asked, panting.
Kenji hesitated… then grinned.
"Draw."
Ravager chuckled and lowered his blade. "Hell of a fight."
Kenji sheathed one of his swords and offered a hand. Ravager stared for a second—then took it.
"Next time," Ravager said, "no holding back."
Kenji nodded. "Next time."
Meanwhile, Olorun was still darting around the battlefield, trying to land clean hits on Slitherin. The towering cobra man hissed with every motion, slithering just out of reach each time. Olorun's fingers snapped out in rapid strikes—aimed for Slitherin's throat, ribs, neck—but nothing stuck.
"Damn it, hold still you slippery bastard!" Olorun shouted, weaving another jab forward.
Slitherin's head jerked back, then surged forward without warning. A stream of thick venom sprayed from his fangs, hitting Olorun square in the eyes.
"AGHHHHH! WHAT THE HELL!" Olorun stumbled back, clutching his face. "You—! You cheater!"
He blinked furiously, eyes red and burning, vision blurry as hell.
Slitherin reared back, fangs gleaming with pride. "In war, there are no rules, little man."
Without warning, Olorun lashed out blindly—his foot swinging in a sharp arc.
WHACK.
Slitherin's eyes bulged.
WHACK.
A second, even harder kick.
Slitherin doubled over, both hands snapping down to his groin as he dropped to the ground like a sack of bricks. "AAAHHHH—YOU BITCH! YOU CHEATED TOO!"
Olorun fell onto his back beside him, covering his eyes with both hands. "Because you did it first, asshole!"
Slitherin writhed next to him, clutching his crotch, hissing curses.
Across the battlefield, Kenji—still flat on his back, sword laid beside him—turned his head slightly, eyes barely open.
"Yo, Olorun... you good?"
Olorun groaned. "Oh, yeah. Totally. My eyes are melting out of my skull, I just lost all my pinky strength, and I didn't even get to have a cool fight like you."
Kenji gave a low grunt that could've been a laugh... or maybe just a cough. "Tough break."
Olorun muttered, "I hate snakes... I really do."