"Clang! Clang-clang-clang!"
The clash of blades came fast and furious. The two men twisted and darted across the battlefield carpeted with corpses, their feet constantly slipping on slick bodies or scattered weapons, making every movement unsteady and staggering.
Gron was, after all, a veteran of countless battles. He feinted with his blade, drawing Thomas into raising his sword to block, then flicked his wrist. His curved saber swept out at an uncanny angle, slashing across Thomas's left arm!
"Rip!"
The razor-sharp edge tore through cloth and flesh, scattering a trail of blood droplets. Thomas gave a muffled groan as searing pain flared through his left arm, blood swiftly dyeing his sleeve red. He staggered back two steps and nearly fell.
Gron pressed his advantage without mercy, closing in step by step as his curved saber came down again like a raging storm. Thomas gritted his teeth and forced himself to hold on, swinging his longsword desperately to parry, but he was clearly running out of strength, his defenses riddled with openings.
"Pfft!"
Another slash—this one cut across his thigh. Thomas swayed and dropped to one knee, blood running down his trouser leg.
"This is the fate of traitors!" A cruel delight flashed in Gron's eyes. He raised his curved saber high, ready to deliver the final blow to Thomas.
Yet at the instant he lifted his saber and left his center wide open, a resolute gleam flashed through Thomas's eyes. He suddenly hurled the longsword in his hand at Gron's chest like a thrown javelin, pouring every last ounce of his strength into it!
Gron had not expected his opponent to abandon his sword and attack this way. His face went pale in shock as he tried to dodge, but they were too close, and with his saber raised for