The clash between the two strongest beings of the two factions continued to unfold regularly.
No one seemed to have the upper hand, which made Yvanna thoughtful.
Malrik had not even reached Rank EX, yet he could fight on an equal footing with her.
This troubled her, but she had no time to worry about it.
She was more anxious about the battle below.
She could waste no time; she had to face her opponent at full strength.
Malrik, on the other hand, was carefree.
To him, everyone else was mere pawns to be used to his own advantage. He had long since gotten used to the fact that the world revolved around him.
Moreover, he did not take battle seriously.
Every part of his being, particularly his blood, served as a guarantee. If he had not died in a crushing blow, he would have survived.
Yvanna used a long, thin sword. Her every move was imbued not only with elegance but also with ferocity.
Her battle style had long since become accustomed to being lethal. No waste of movement.
