The staffs clashed in the air.
A darkness radiated from Sylas' eyes, dark tendrils of fog peeling out from the sides.
As though reflecting his own, a radiant gold emitted from the Monkey King's, lines of gold that almost looked like freeze-framed lightning edging out from its corners.
They separated and then exploded forward, a furious combination of wild attacks shattering the mountain around them into smaller and smaller pieces until they danced on debris and clouds, fleeting currents of wind becoming no less solid than earth beneath the tips of their toes and the surge of their heels.
The Monkey King's staff extended and Sylas' head ducked out of the way, his own staff extending right at the Monkey King's knee. In response, the latter leapt upward.
Sylas attacked from below and the Monkey King attacked from above, the two of them using their staffs as pivot points to suddenly unleash a kick at one another.
