Rickard swiped his blade as the crowd roared, it’s coating of power and his Crest vanishing with the swing. The man strode over to Soren, who was left panting as he stared upwards, his eyes barely shifting to acknowledge Rickard as he stepped into view.
“Haaaagh…” Soren then gave a dragging sigh. “Total defeat. I didn’t have a chance in Gehenna.”
“Good, you can still admit to that,” Rickard held out a hand. Soren let out a mutter, then taking the offer and doing his best to make sure Rickard wasn’t solely yanking him up on his own. “Still… that potential of yours is finally coming into its own. Just don’t start getting ahead of yourself. One lucky win against a Black Wyrm just means you pulled through. Don’t go pulling the hero thing again, it’ll get you killed next time.”
“Almost did…” Soren gave a bitter click of the tongue, Rickard bumping him on the arm with a fist as he sauntered past.
“Then be sure not to forget about it.”