Although Azaron had landed two clean attacks while she hadn't landed any, she didn't care. It was merely two attacks out of the thousands they had already exchanged. Her grin remained firmly in place, she didn't speak, nor did she complain, for she had been done speaking the moment Azaron began taking her seriously. Although she was losing the battle of hand-to-hand combat for now, it wasn't over yet, and it certainly wasn't time to transition into the next phase of the battle.
Azaron neither spoke nor gloated. It was merely an injury, one that had already healed. It wasn't fatal or critical, so there was nothing particularly remarkable about it.
With grins spread across their faces, they both vanished from where they stood once again, crossing the distance as though the concepts of space and distance were nothing more than mere suggestions to them.
