The battle between Marcus and Lieutenant Emily Wilson was a showdown between two formidable opponents, each on par with the other in terms of both skill and resolve.
The agile and leaner form of Emily stood in stark contrast to the robust physique of Marcus.
Nevertheless, beneath the layers of physical disparity, they shared a mutual resolve that shone brightly in each other's eyes, lighting up the freezing battlefield.
Marcus wielded his Axe with the dexterity of a seasoned warrior, each swing deliberate and powerful in equal measure. Marcus' mana shield absorbed the majority of Emily's blows, and his Axe was constantly deflecting Emily's lightning-fast strikes.
Emily's attacks were relentless and well-trained, but his brain crystal power protected him by surrounding him with a shimmering mana shield.
This layer of defense allowed him to withstand Emily's attacks. Her heightened senses allowed her to make her movements even more fluid as she slashed her longsword swiftly through the cold winter air.
As she danced around Marcus, her long brown hair was blown in every direction. Emily used her heightened senses to anticipate Marcus' movements to find and exploit any vulnerabilities in his defense.
Their conflict was a violent ballet of attacks and counterattacks, resembling more a symphony of clashing metal than a dance.
However, the turning point came when Marcus used his mana shield to force an opening.
While Emily was attempting one of her lunges, he quickly expanded his shield, and the sudden force knocked her off balance.
Marcus took full advantage of her lapse in concentration, bringing his Axe crashing down with a mighty swing. Emily's heightened senses gave her a momentary window of opportunity to avoid the attack as she heard the Axe coming down, but by then, it was too late.
Marcus Axe bit into her side, knocking her over on the snowy ground. Emily tried to stand up but was in a lot of pain and could only do so while holding her side with one hand.
Marcus did not provide her with the opportunity. He ended the duel with a swift motion, burying his Axe deep into her skill and winning the fight.
It was abundantly clear that the man did not require any assistance, so there was no reason for the others to participate in the conflict.
Marcus stood victorious as Emily's lifeless body lay motionless on the ground, the biting winter wind carrying away the echoes of their struggle as it passed by.
But his eyes held no joy, only the solemn understanding of a duty fulfilled and a life taken.
"You took your time, huh?" As Alexia emerged from behind him, her voice rang out, and humor could be heard laced throughout her words.
As she watched Marcus, her bow was slung across her back, and her eyes shone with relief and amusement. Marcus let out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing around the now silent battlefield.
After the arduous battle, his eyes sparkled with joy as he looked at the archer. He understood the joke for what it was: a brief release from the tension building up.
Marcus wiped the sweat off his forehead before turning to take a look around at the battlefield.
When he saw Erik, whose forehead was sweaty due to the usage of his power, and Garrett, whose weathered face revealed the battle's hardship, his gaze softened.
Ava, on the other hand, was the one who captured his attention. The young woman was resting her head against a tree, her face as pale as the hair on her head, which was a vibrant shade of blonde.
Her right arm hung limply by her side, and the fabric of her attire bore a dark stain that marred its appearance.
His typically upbeat disposition turned for the worse when he noticed she had been hurt. Marcus said to Ava in a solemn tone, "Let me see your wound," as he gestured toward her.
The woman smiled weakly at Marcus, her eyes shining despite her obvious pain.
"It's just a scratch," she said, with a hint of the playful tone that is typically associated with her voice.
Her eyes betrayed a tenacity that reflected her dogged determination, a quality that had been instrumental in her success in overcoming many challenges in the past.
Despite the disdainful remark that Ava had just made, she dislodged herself from the tree that she had been leaning against and cautiously approached Marcus.
It was evident that she was attempting to limit the movement and alleviate the pain.
Once she was in front of Marcus, she carefully lifted her injured arm, revealing the wound by pulling back the fabric of her clothing to expose it. It was a deep cut, and the blood stood out vividly against her white skin.
Even though the blood had clotted around it, it was evident that if the wound did not receive the appropriate medical attention, it would take some time to heal, and there was a risk of becoming infected.
Marcus frowned as he inspected the injury with the keen eye of someone who had done this kind of thing multiple times, trying to determine the extent of the damage.
The wound on Ava's arm was a gruesome sight to behold in its severity. It was a deep gash that had sliced through the fabric of her clothes and the delicate skin beneath it, cutting diagonally across the lateral aspect of her forearm.
The wound's edges were neat and regular, indicating that a skilled hand had caused it.
The gash measured approximately four inches in length and was deep enough to expose the raw, ruddy tissue that lay beneath the skin; however, it had thankfully not yet reached the bone.
Fresh and dried blood surrounded the wound; it had seeped into the fabric of her clothes and stained her skin a dark crimson color.
Blood was also visible on her clothes. A few of the blood's components had already begun to coagulate, giving the area around the cut the appearance of dark, brittle patches.
Because of the force that had been used to deliver the blow, the skin around the gash on Ava's skin was already irritated and swollen, displaying a coloration that was an unhealthy mix of red and purple.
The area surrounding the wound was swollen and appeared throbbing with every beat of her heart.
Ava was doing a commendable job of concealing her discomfort, especially given the severity of the situation.
But the occasional wince, the light sheen of sweat on her forehead, and the pallor of her face were clear indicators of the pain she was bearing. If the wound was not properly cared for and treated, there was a significant chance that it would become infected, and the process of healing would be drawn out and could even be incapacitating.
It was abundantly clear that referring to the injury as "Just a scratch" was a gross oversimplification. However, even though he was not a doctor, he knew that Ava's wound was going to be fine until they stitched her up and cleaned the wound often.
"You call that a scratch?" Marcus retorted, raising an eyebrow. After that, he gave her a stern look that did invite her not to argue with him. "You need to take care of this, Ava. Let's not treat it like a joke, shall we?"
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