The flames brushing his skin were hot. No, scorching, searing the surface of his skin at every dodge, at every time the blade passed his eyes. Then Ordan evaded his arrows, and his sword clashed against the body of his bow, scraping shards of it. Moulin feels the extraordinary weight and uses all his might to push the man off. It worked. However, Ordan comes again in moments, almost burning the youth's face.
The fight lasted longer than Moulin thought. There was never meant to be genuine pain brought into the battle. Both of them were aware of the limits.
Moulin believed in his strength—more than before. But facing a seasoned warrior who possessed more power, more pure strength, and flawless in every physical aspect, he felt the loss slowly engulfing him. And now it shattered the locked emotions he had kept safe inside. And no damn mantra was going to fix it.
Crack!