Tatehan stood, gripping the sword in his hands very tightly, gazing at Kael like he was his sworn enemy. His eyes, even behind the mask, radiated pure annoyance.
Kael gazed back just as intensely, holding his chakrams in a white-knuckled grip.
"I wouldn't advise you fight me, kid. Even with that magic-like armor and my sword you're holding, I can still inflict damage."
For a second there, Tatehan couldn't believe he was doing this. Ready to fight the man who had saved his life. It sounded impossible, but here they were. Reality had a twisted sense of humor.
"I should be telling you that, old man," Tatehan replied, unfazed.
Kael grinned at being called 'old man.'
Tatehan jumped down from the mauler's corpse, landing in a crouch, one hand on the ground for balance.
"I never wanted to fight you," he said to Kael. "I mean, right now I still can't believe I'm actually doing this, but—"
