Back in the Land of Nion, blades were clashing.
Alfius slashed at Tilly, but he could distinctly feel that Tilly's sword was incredibly heavy. The swords were roughly the same, and Tilly had let him choose one that felt comfortable.
However, no matter which sword Alfius used against him, the moment their blades met, Tilly's sword always felt significantly heavier.
Alfius had to sidestep, tilting his sword to parallel Tilly's. He then slashed down again, catching Tilly off guard with the sudden strike and pinning his blade down.
Yet, Tilly, being the seasoned warrior he was, managed to lift his sword with brute strength and countered, sending Alfius' blade flying.
"Wow, that's totally unfair," Alfius remarked. "Are you a wrestler or something?"
Tilly laughed heartily. "Of course not!" he replied with a grin, but then his tone turned serious. "Listen, young Alfius, I feel nothing from your sword."
"Feel? What can you feel from a sword?" Alfius asked, puzzled.
Tilly shook his head. "No, no. You can feel a lot. The resolve with which you wield your sword, your intentionsβthey are conveyed through every strike. But from your blade, I feel nothing. Young Alfius, why do you draw your sword?"
"To seek revenge!" Alfius answered firmly.
Tilly shook his head again. "No, if that were all, your sword wouldn't be so light. Something is holding you back. What is it?"
Alfius didn't understand Tilly's words and shook his head. "I... I don't know."
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