CLANK!
CLANK!
The clanging of swords echoed in this desolate place, while the crunching of dry bones made noise beneath their feet. Even so, neither of them stopped to respect the bones of the dead.
On the contrary, each of them emerged even more powerful as time went by. One literally, the other simply increasing his power each time.
Horizontal blows, vertical blows, thrusts to the shoulder, neck, chest, limbs...
Unlike the Wights, who had some visible flesh, this Death Knight was completely covered in black armor that looked like it was dripping blood, but was actually cursed energy, which slowly flooded the place where it stood.
Edward needed to end this fight as soon as possible; he had very little time left. He had no more pills, and the minutes were ticking away. Every minute spent here brought the scythe of death closer to his neck, literally.
Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do. His passive state was evident.
