A young man felt a cold, sharp pain slice past his right arm, while it still held onto a sword with a white gold hilt. The wound was deep, and caused him to lose grip of his weapon. It fell into the mud, the one side of the blade and hilt exposed to the damp air. He placed his left hand over the incision, but his enemy had made his wound too long and deep for his hand to cover.

The opponent held a larger blade which seemed fit for his height, and its cleverly designed bronze hilt shimmered under the polishing of the rain and the sunlight barely breaking through the gray clouds. Rain and wind battered the dark, slightly long hair over his pale face. This did not distract him, and lifted his sword high, gathering strength to finish off the young man as he took a deep breath. Exhaling harshly, he struck his weapon down at the chest of the boy.

The wounded youth raised his right hand instinctively, seen by many as a poor way to defend oneself. Before another second had passed, a soundless explosion of orange light emitted from his hand, directed by silvery threads which directed the orange to take the shape of a shield.

As the blade made contact with the barrier, streams of silver jumped from the shield and quickly snatched the hilt from the rival’s grip. The enemy’s brown eyes widened with both astonishment, and fear. The possessed sword struck at the adversary’s heart, and he fell backwards into the mud. Blood splattered over the shield and surrounding area; the rain slowly washed the crimson from the barrier. His adversary fell to the ground, lacking with life, but teeming with death.

The young man let the shield fade away, and leaned over to his right to pick up his own sword with the hand of his unscathed arm. He then leaned backwards into the mud, allowing himself some time to recollect and recover himself from the recent event. Many minutes had passed, and he finally decided to attempt in getting up. This took another several minutes, but he eventually staggered to a slouching stance. He awkwardly placed his blade into the sheath on the left side of himself, and then stared at the sky. Closing his eyes, he felt the calming rain wash the mud off of his face.