"Flint," the word whispered through William's cracked lips. The name made him smile further, jagged teeth gleaming in the dazzling light. It was ironic that Ragnarok was using a fire starting tool to draw living fire into a conflict. Cosmic irony had always been funny to the revenant.
He watched Flint slowly circle, taking William's measure. He was wary, William saw it in his movements, but he was not skittish. It would have been easy for either of them to simply jump to the part where they fought, or for one of them to wait for an ambush in one of the soaring arcades. But that wasn't the way of true warriors, the warriors that Ragnarok craved. Now that both men had introduced themselves and sized one another up, the real contest could begin.
When it came, it came fast. From the moment he'd first seen Flint leap from the airship William knew that how it would be. This was a brash man who faced his problems head on. Problems would be met with stubborn, forceful resistance and if they remained after, another solution could be found. William felt a certain kinship with the man. No wonder Ragnarok had drawn them together.
The instant Flint surged forward, spraying water high behind him, William made his own move. Supernatural power flooded William's veins, infusing him with a speed that no normal human could hope to match. And yet Flint's massive frame not only matched William's speed, he surpassed it. The big man's speed wasn't too much greater than William, but the difference was definitely clear.
The dozen feet between the two combatants vanished in the blink of an eye. Since he was faster than William, the revenant made the split-second decision that he needed to test Flint's abilities further before simply clashing their strength together. William dodged toward the center of the pool, where the high podium wall stood. He twisted as he did so, transferring his warscythe to his left hand and brining the long-hafted polearm around in an arc that snapped through the air so fast that the air whistled across its razor edge. The blade dropped as it shot towards Flint, angling towards the brawler's legs. The man had a powerful reach and an armored hide, but how much good would that do if William cut him off at the knees?
