He lowered the blade from before his face and assumed a standard fighting stance, left foot forward, right foot back, blade raised at an angle, its tip pointing at Saul's throat.
Monta also took his stance, holding his ceremonial sword across his chest.
"Then come."
The flame of conviction in Aun'Ve's eyes burned even fiercer.
"Let me see just how much your human justice weighs."
Saul said nothing more.
He bent his knees slightly, holding his Power Sword across his body, its tip angled slightly downward.
The air between them seemed to freeze.
Then Aun'Ve and Monta moved at the same time.
From left and right, like two arrows loosed from their bows, they charged at Saul.
Aun'Ve's blade traced a silver arc straight toward Saul's neck. Monta's ceremonial sword thrust at Saul's ribs from the flank. Their coordination was flawless, an instinct forged over decades of fighting side by side.
But their opponent was Saul.
Saul turned slightly, letting Aun'Ve's blade sweep past three centimeters from his faceplate. At the same time, he raised his left hand and caught the tip of Monta's sword between two fingers.
"What..." Before Monta could finish, Saul's right leg swept out.
The heavy powered boot slammed into Monta's chest. The old general flew backward like a kite with its string cut and crashed hard into the wall.
"Monta!" Aun'Ve roared, slashing wildly at Saul.
A slash from the left, a chop from the right, an upward cut, a low sweep-Aun'Ve poured out every ounce of his fury and skill.
But Saul evaded with the smallest of movements. A tilt of his head, a turn of his shoulder, half a step back.
The absolute disparity in strength was an unbridgeable gulf.
By the wall, Monta struggled to his feet. His breastplate was caved in,