Chiron rested against his broad sword, the heavy blade buried deep in the ground, providing a momentary support for his exhausted frame. A poignant mix of blood and sweat dripped from his body, staining the ground beneath him. Around him lay the corpses of Lustbloods, so numerous that he was kneeling on a plateau of the dead.
They had come in relentless waves. He had started counting at first, but after reaching fifty, he stopped. There was no need. His arms and limbs had moved so much that his body itself had become a weapon. He could feel his muscles polishing themselves, his fighting technique sharpening with each swing of his sword, and his muscles fine-tuning to the extreme.
Every part of his body moved in perfect harmony, executing his techniques with lethal precision.