His sword was pointing to the floor as Rohan stared in dread at his opponent. He was in the middle of the arena as all the clans of the Barren Lands were watching with apprehension and interest.
The first duel of the fifty or so winners from the four arenas was him against this man standing there. The pressure he emitted forced Rohan to gulp down.
The advisor shouted, it was the start of the duel.
Rohan breathed out and rushed forward. The man waited for the young warrior to approach him. He unsheathed his sword, making all the spectators exclaim among themselves.
Rohan's sword flashed at lighting speed. It was easily parried away. He felt as if he had hit a wall, an indestructible one. The sword his opponent wielded wasn't as good as him, but Rohan could feel it, the thin mana enveloping his sword.
It wasn't the weapon of his enemy that risked being cracked, but his own. His expression hardened.