Day-2 Perseverance

Mahon's spear crashed down on the armour, the small blade letting out a burst of white light as it slammed into the steel. Each movement flooding back memories, the feeling of sand flushing through his toes, the fine powder swallowing his feet in every movement, each step, each swing encased in the golden sand. The sword flowed at the flicks and twists of the immortal's wrist, slicing through the first spear, the shimmering slash carving through Mahon's hand in a flash. Pain flooded out like blood, the unimaginable pain of losing a limb, the maddening terrifying speed of each blow, the pain all hitting in a flash of the reflected sun. The eerie calm of the moon crashing through his wrist in a rising torrent of red.

Mahon reached behind him the small shield wrapping around his arm swinging out in a wide punch, the shield glaring with the light of the sun, his long hair whipping behind each movement of his turning hips, the steel rimmed shield smashing through the plated armour surrounding his opponent's arm. But again the immortal swung back, the speed and power behind each slash was astonishing.

The kind of speed that makes all movements futile, dodging is just a way of delaying the inevitable.

The kind of power that crushes all defences, blocking the hit is just a louder sound.

Mahon pushed through, through the splintered remains of his weapons. Mahon didn't give up… through the agony, the soul crushing pain of being cut by your own sword. He pushed on through the almost invisible net of slashes his hand folding around a hammer tied to his back, the bleeding stump that remained pressing down on the top as he leapt through the air, the immortal instantly pushing his shield from his back the metal plate blocking the hammers' trajectory, but in a flash the air under Mahon's legs ignited, the fiery space burning through his leg, the warm air flipping his body to the side the hammer slamming into the immortals arm with a satisfying crunch, the plate armour falling off his delicate clothes. Then pushing off the heavy hunk of steel, Mahon retreated back, his burnt and warped leg falling to the ground, each tiny piece burning with an all too familiar pain. Every second made him want to pass out, it was nothing like before, he had to be calm… the surge of his heart was gone… but the pain rang through his body like a bull charging through a farmer. He wrapped his hand around a flask the blood pouring down his throat, his skin smoothing, his hand regenerating, and the soothing ecstasy lifted him from the painful battle, for a brief moment as always he was dragged back to a familiar bliss.

"Give me back my sword."

The immortal stepped forward, his arm hanging loosely, "hahaha, you got a good one there, but I could handle you with both my arms broken, one is more than enough."