Sand whipped around in a feverish storm low to the arena floor, but the power behind it seemed too measly when it struck the demon. He stood there without reaction, stoic and methodical, watching Morus even behind the wall of sand. He hadn't kept pace well with the sand blast he'd thrown, and as it fizzled out against his opponent, so did his run slow to a light jog. His opponent's stare didn't lessen at all as he withdrew the pulsing blade from his weapon and clipped it back on to his belt, a move which felt all too mocking to the boy.

”Is he playing with me?” Morus stared back with wide and incredulous eyes, as he heard the warrior chide him in a deep and booming voice. The fear inside the boy turned into confusion, then into a tense anger that stiffened his entire body.

“Sorry? What does that -” He was cut off mid-sentence by a strong right hook that smashed hard into his chest. Again his lithe form slid across the sandy floor before finally arranging itself in a heap just a few paces away from the reflecting pool. For a minute, he felt as if he couldn't breathe. Slowly, through moans and occasional coughs, he gripped at his breast and felt the sore spot just inches from his heart. Air came in small bursts into his lungs and felt like white hot fire with each sputter. The boy tried to rise to his feet, his head still ringing and the single beam of moonlight nearby blinding him as he did, but kept falling to his knees with each gasp of breath.

Morus spit at the ground and tried in some fright to see if any blood was mingled in, but the pain he felt seemed more superficial than he had hoped. He knew his body would rebel at any attempt to rise, and so he remained motionless, almost meditative, hoping to recover just enough strength to charge at the beast again.

“Why,” he began, mewling as he did, “why can't you just kill me?” The boy could no longer face his opponent, choosing instead to trace the path he slid with his eyes.