The wind roared as Takeshi surged forward again, his blade whispering through the air with lethal grace. He moved like a ghost wrapped in a storm, each step carried on controlled bursts of compressed wind that cracked the rooftop beneath him.
Thundercutter met him head-on, his sword wreathed in electric arcs, each swing detonating with a krak-thoom that lit up the sky like god's wrath made manifest. Sparks exploded every time their blades met - air and voltage colliding, wind shearing against lightning.
"You've improved, Takeshi," Thundercutter muttered between clenched teeth, blocking a spinning diagonal strike that sent vibrations down his arms.
"To think you are still this capable without your sight, I did you a favour that day," the man in black and yellow fluttering robes laughed.
The blindfolded swordsman didn't reply.
He didn't need to.
