He was breathing heavily. Both had yet to take a break after three hours of effort. Even though it wasn't intense nor fast-paced, the consistency in focus led to a growing fatigue.
"Are you sure you don't want to slow down my king? Anytime soon would be the correct moment." Fedlimid said, wiping a few droplets of sweat off his forehead.
"I don't have time to waste." Seeing the barbarian's reluctance to continue, the panting recruit taunted him instead of scolding his underling. "And I thought I'd be the one to concede defeat first."
Fedlimid's serious glare came back for a second, but it smoothened the next instant because the man couldn't afford to lose his job so soon. His next slash was heavy, well-placed, and too fast for Arthur to react in time. It was a vertical slash, similar to the impending doom of an executioner and its violence shook Arthur's arms.
The clank of his sword resounded at every corner of the training room as he had lost the grip of his sword anew.
