The battle continued for several minutes. Their blades met over and over, each clash ringing out across the terrain.
The spirit fought with heart and experience. Clearly having a lifetime worth of hunting experience, and sword work.
Every strike was efficient, every dodge minimal, every counter aimed at his vital points.
But Moon matched it all.
His smile only widened as the minutes passed. His footwork kept pace with the spirit's speed. His blade found the parries it needed to find. His body moved with the instinct he had sharpened through hundreds of fights over the past days.
"Not bad." Moon said between exchanges, deflecting a thrust aimed at his throat. "I can hold my ground against a weak Second Star spirit in close combat. Without using my main skills."
The spirit's expression darkened. Its expression tightened, and the tempo of its attacks increased.
Each swing was faster, harder, carrying more force than the last.
Moon was humiliating it. And it knew.
