Daru’s heart dropped one mont, then returned to where it was the next.
Elara simply stepped back as if nothing happened...as if her neck hadn’t been cut at all.
Well, it clearly wasn’t, as she wouldn’t be moving now, otherwise.
"What? How unfair is that?" She grumbled in frustration. "How could this vexing wraith be unscathed?"
Catching her words, Daru’s expression turned a bit strange.
’What’s that saying again? A pot calling the kettle black?’ he mused, but not for long as, in the next mont, the short reprieve granted to him by Elara’s interference was over.
The princely wraith was upon him again.
Commodus only ignored his comrade, lunging at him as though there was a personal vendetta between them.
Daru sidestepped, causing a dull clang to echo through the Throne Hall as his foe’s black stone gladiuses crashed onto the stone floor with terrifying force.
Then, in a single swift motion, he pivoted his foot and slashed down at the princely wraith’s forearms, aiming to sever it.
Commodus surprisingly read his move, swiftly spinning to dodge his counter and counterattack while at it.
Daru’s pupils constricted, and he quickly jumped back.
No one had been wounded so far, but it seed that the battle would be harder than he thought.
After all, unlike Rocante, the abomination in front of him knew and applied swordsmanship techniques.
It was as if Commodus was truly a bladeborn...
No.
Daru sensed it, and he was certain that whatever the princely wraith was, he would fight like a bladeborn — with wits, technique, and the most dangerous of all, Sword Skills.
But before another clash between them could happen, Sigrun stepped in once, stabbing at the unexplainable spawn.
Commodus rely ignored the strike as he had done earlier, though.
Instead, he stabbed right back at her neck, aiming to destroy her throat in one forceful thrust.
Elara sneered.
Showing great flexibility, she bent backwards, gracefully dodging the counter like a ballerina while forcing her own attack.
She felt the tip of her flyssa drive through the princely wraith’s black stone armor, carrying enough montum to punch cleanly through.
Yet, as before, she failed to truly wound Commodus—just as he had failed to wound her.
This ti, however, she was forced to evade rather than rely on whatever Sword Skill she had used earlier.
Perhaps it was still on cooldown.
Either way, Daru didn’t waste the dangling chance. The mont he noticed Elara moving in his peripheral vision, he had already planned to work with her.
Defeating this foe as quickly as they could was paramount to the survival of the Damnedling Army.
So, as much as he wanted to solve this mystery of a swordspawn alone, it was simply out of the question this ti.
This was not the ti to satiate his follies.
He burst into a dash, splitting into two in the process and attacking from both the front and back of their wraithly adversary.
But Commodus instantly determined that he was in a bad spot, spinning for two monts like a whirlwind and blowing Daru, his intent mirage, and Elara away.
The battle escalated from that point on as both sides began going all out after a few probing exchanges.
The wraithly prince fought like a warlord.
He was fearless, his movents were bold, and his attacks were both cunning and vicious. Commodus’ twin blades were like malevolent summons that moved according to his whims, protecting him one mont and vanquishing his foe the next.
But Daru and Elara weren’t about to be outdone.
Far from it.
They battled their wraithly adversary like twin spirits of gold and silver — the forr flowing, precise, efficient.
There were no wasted movents, and everything he did was for the sake of slaying the adversary.
Elara, on the other hand, fought with strange elegance and gracefulness.
This was the first ti she had shown her true battle style, and she was like a dancer more than a swordsman.
She utilized her flexible body in unconventional ways.
Yet, despite the seemingly unideal movents, her opponent’s sword couldn’t touch her. At least not cleanly.
She either blocked them or she was grazed minimally, the sa as her comrade.
The princely wraith was, after all, physically stronger than both of them.
The gap was not as vast as Rocante’s, but it was enough to doom them should they make a single, moderate mistake.
It would be a tall task for either of them to duel Commodus and defeat him.
That said, it wasn’t impossible, and even now, they were slightly winning. Or at least they should be, given the number of tis Sigrun had managed to land her sword on the malevolent prince’s body.
Commodus’ armor was already in a bad condition.
Yet, there was not a single wound on his body — a stark contrast to the spirits of gold and silver, who had negligible cuts here and there, but cuts nonetheless.
The three split in unison after thirty seconds of nonstop action, as if it was the only correct thing to do in that situation.
Daru’s eyes narrowed.
On the surface, it seed that they’d lost the exchanges, considering their minor wounds, but he begged to differ.
There was sothing he realized in those few dozen clashes of lethal intensity.
It was that Commodus would always ignore Elara’s strikes. His, on the other hand, would be dealt with.
It seed that Onimaru Kunitsuna was not allowed to touch his opponent, for so reason, but Sigrun was.
Why is that?
Elara seed to have found a few hints herself.
The two of them then glanced at each other, and Elara...her eyes widened montarily. Daru instantly caught it.
"Have you noticed sothing?" he asked.
"Why, of course! In fact, this princess had already figured out the enemy’s abilities! Aren’t I amazing?"
Then, without warning, she dashed for the gate.
Even Commodus seed confused at what she was doing.
But there was nothing mysterious about it. Elara was...simply leaving.
"Only you can wound him, so I’ll be leaving to help the poor ones instead. They’ll need this princess more. Don’t you dare lose, Onimaru Kunitsuna."
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