A blade in a ballet.
He flourished, his control of the blade was majestic; the silver weapon twisted and span around his body; elegant like the soft autumn breeze but powerful like the raging whirlwind. His opponent stepped forward, a hand held behind his back, his blade held upright – splitting his face. They faced one another in silence, one hooded, the other in armour.
The hooded rushed forces, his blade extended. The armoured knocked the blade to the right and stepped to the left, spinning around his foe and hitting the hooded with the hilt of his blade. The hooded lurched forward, stopped, and dashed to the right. The armoured span to react, but he caught nothing but his afterimage. The dancing blade sparked as it skimmed across the armoured’s chest. He stepped back and placed two hands on his blade. The hooded stopped in front of him and smiled, his grip tightening on his blade. The armoured stepped, twisted his feet and span, his sword following his arc. The power of the swing blasted a shockwave forward, knocking the hooded off his feet. The hooded rolled to the right to dodge a downward stab, the unbreakable blade cracked the ground. The armoured ripped his silver blade out of the ground, swinging it limply to the right to keep the hooded zoned off.
He used this chance; the hooded once again darted forward, his blade sheathed. The hooded jumped onto the armoured’s chest, his fingers slipping between the kinks in the armour. He pulled and pulled, attempting to break apart the titan’s armour. The armoured flailed magnificently, attempting to retain his balance whilst trying to rip him off. The hooded bounced off and out of the reach of his blade, a plate of armour in his hand.
A glimmer of white teeth shone through the shadows of his hood, giving out a sinister aura as he once again drew his sword. Their blades came together in wonderful sparks and metallic knolls that filled the air with the music of battle. Clashes moved at an inhuman speed, the power behind each of their attacks was overly destructive, each clash blasting shockwaves outwards. Neither would back down, neither let up. The courtyard their battle had taken place in was completely destroyed, the stone walls surrounding them nothing more than ruins; the green grasses overturned, the flowers flattened. The blades; the blades specifically made for these two masters, could not hold against their incredible power. They shattered; hundreds of shards of metal fell to the ground.
Neither had won, yet neither had fell. A duel of two true masters.