The air still reeked of ozone and ash from Rio's earlier battle with Aelthar, but now the scarred battlefield trembled anew as Leon, with his armor cracked and breath labored, lunged at Rio with a roar.
Blood streaked the hero's face, but his eyes burned with cold, unrelenting focus.
Leon's blade—a sharp monstrosity of shadow-steel—clashed against Rio's sword in a shower of sparks, the impact cratering the ground beneath them.
Yet the result ….
"You're slow," Rio sneered, his voice icy as he parried Leon's flurry of strikes with contemptuous ease. Every swing Leon threw, Rio anticipated, his blade meeting Leon's a fraction sooner, cutting his momentum dead.
When Leon shifted tactics, Rio followed through, slamming his elbow into the hero's ribs, _ wrecking his innards.
"Whoo..who taught you that …?" Leon asked while forcing himself to swallow the coughing blood , but still a streak of red spilled through his lips.
