Asher lay with a battered body within a sinkhole, coughing up blood, but his grin never left; he rose ever so slowly as he shifted into a kneeling position. He could hear Debro approaching ever so slowly, like he was the king of the battlefield, and indeed, at the moment, he was. He stopped two meters away from Asher, staring at his regenerating body with a calm gaze.
Silence reigned between the both of them as they simply stared into each other's eyes, as though silence conveyed more words than any form of speech, a heavy, suffocating stillness pressing down upon the battlefield as neither made the slightest move, the tension between them stretching taut like a thread on the verge of snapping, as though the very air itself held its breath in anticipation of what would follow.
