Max's eyes narrowed slightly.
The shadow reached him, and sword met sword.
Clang!
The arena shook again.
Max redirected the attack and slashed toward its neck. The shadow twisted away, but the blade still cut across its shoulder, and it ignored the wound completely.
The greatsword came around, and Max blocked, producing another violent collision.
The shadow recoiled, Max advanced, and sword light flashed. The Eighth Shadow was driven back, then stopped itself, returned, and attacked again.
The same pattern repeated over and over.
The battle had become a contest between two completely different philosophies of the sword.
The Eighth Shadow stood for relentless violence, with a swordsmanship built around pressure, momentum, endurance, and the refusal to ever stop attacking.
Max stood for absolute severance. His swordsmanship was growing more emotionless, more precise, and more focused on cutting apart everything that gave an attack its meaning.
