Crossed Blades II – A Magical Duel

The tension was mounting. The ground was dry. There were already rocks. And the fight continued. The blades flashed, sparking. Sometimes they stumbled. And didn't fall. They were both well trained. Although it was difficult to keep track of the rocks. All attention was on the enemy. And his blade.

The elves took turns lunging, expending their strength. And sparks flew around. Which could blind anyone for a few seconds. Sometimes there was a huge amount of sparks, like fireworks. The crossed blades sparked especially brightly. Rising upward and falling to the ground, they often hit the elves. Who paid no attention to the burns.

The elf, a ranger in green, made a mistake in the fight. He was blinded by the blade of the elf in black. And the elf in green lost his sight for a split second. He swung the blade in front of him. Randomly, chaotically, and quickly.

The black elf noticed this and struck from the side. It knocked the sword from the ranger's hands, wounding his arm. Blood flowed to the ground. The blade fell right next to him. With a swift movement, the forest ranger snatched it up. The wound took its toll. He stepped back.

The blows from both swords were charged with magic. The black-robed elf was especially charged with magic. He was clearly counting on a quick victory. And powerful blows. On magical superiority in battle. His blows were significantly stronger. And he was slightly faster. He had used a lot of magical equipment on himself.

The black elf attacked furiously. One attack after another. He had the advantage of speed. And focus. He swung the blade quickly, shifting it from one side to the other. To strike from different angles.

The problem was that the black elf had a limited supply of power. The forest ranger smiled to himself. Despite his advantage, the black-robed elf could lose his power. If he continued. He relied on dark magic spells.

The elf in green. A skilled forest dweller. He inhales and exhales. And moves quite rhythmically. As if dancing with his blade. He tries to dodge all attacks. He jumps from one side to the other like a grasshopper.

The ranger's attacks are weaker now. But they can still be strengthened by the amulets he carries. The ranger gradually casts pre-prepared incantations. To activate the power within his amulets and magical items. This slowly but surely increases his strength.

Dust rose from the dry earth. Gray dust. Heavy dust. It was hot. The elf in black delivered a crushing direct blow. But it missed. The ranger in green managed to jump aside. The black elf's blow, though powerful, raised even the most heavily embedded dust into the air. But it was slow.

The green elf also managed to escape. A few meters from his opponent. It was all thanks to the spell he'd already cast – "fast feet." The magic was bound, sewn with magical threads into the elven hiking boots. A split second. He stepped back. And he had a clear view of his opponent. The ranger was smiling. But the elf in black was cold, as if to measure. And his face was emotionless.

A faint green glow was still visible. Like a trace of all the green elf's movements. This was the result of forest magic. Druid magic. Yes, the trace would be visible for a long time. Like a rainbow. Only the green silhouette of the ranger himself. Hovering in the air for a few seconds.

"This could be a successful diversion!" the elf ranger thought to himself.

TO BE CONTINUED