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It was quickly becoming clear where Dominus\' advantage lay. His technique eclipsed Ingolsol\'s by order of magnitudes. The Dark God was good – far better than a man who had never trained in his life, but he was not the master swordsman that Dominus was. He could never hope to match that kind of efficiency.

The efficiency was something that Dominus had hammered away at, year after year, as further power was denied to him, as he was forced to remain in the Fifth Boundary. The limitations from the poison only increased that efficiency, as using more of his power than he ought to would only result in his death.

The product of his circumstances was something frightening.

And then Ingolsol called down his lightning.

It wound around his black blade, charging it in a blue and purple, just before Dominus sword struck it next. From there, there was a great sparking, and a terrible crackling, with an impulse that forced the two apart.

Smoke arose on Dominus\' arms, as his purpled skin was coloured black in places. The old knight did not even lower his eyes to acknowledge the wounds, he was still staring off against Ingolsol, readying his next attack.

The Dark God allowed himself a smile of satisfaction. His divine energy needed not to be limited by mere swordplay. It was pure power, of the sort that Francis had sought to wield – only of a higher order, more maluable. He could just as freely wield magic as he could wield the landscape around him, as he could wield death.

And all the while, Beam watched, with a single awed eye. This here was a being that Beam could not even stand in the presence of, lest it burn his soul to the degree that it did – and yet he could sense it, despite his wounds, the tide of battle was well in Dominus favour. He exuded a near-limitless strength.

"I will whittle you down, mortal," Ingolsol said. "Strong though you may be, I deal in dimensions you cannot fathom. Limited though my choices of weapons here might be – I\'m still infinitely more variable than you."

Once again he caught lightning on his sword. It streamed down towards the steel in a bolt of blue from the sky. With the sword raised above his head, his blackened blade greedily gobbled it all up, and then it hung there, as tamely as an energetic hound, running up and down the weapon in undulating currents, but never harming the master that wielded it.

With the lightning on his blade, Ingolsol knew himself to be the stronger man. Dominus\' sword techniques were superior, but now he could not even catch Ingolsol\'s blade, lest it harm him.

Once more, Dominus was in front of Ingolsol before the onlookers could react to his movements. The slightest twitch of Ingolsol\'s arm showed that he\'d at least managed to track it, and put his sword in the way in time.

Dominus\' blade came in, cleaving towards Ingolsol\'s shoulder, but the electrified sword was already there, ready and waiting. To touch it would be to injure himself unduly. Instead, it was Dominus\' leg that struck out, once more chopping into Ingolsol\'s calf, as his blade just narrowly avoided the lightning, and he allowed it to be swung off to the side.

The Dark God grunted in irritation at the attack. It widened his stance more than he would have liked it, but he did not move back. Again Dominus kicked him, and then again, as though he wasn\'t wielding a sword at all, as though his legs were all he had.

After the third kick, Ingolsol was finally forced to draw his leg back. The tension that left his arms as he did so showed his frustration. He\'d wanted to hold his ground, and use his lightning sword to swing an attack of his own, but he couldn\'t see the opening, and was instead made to look defenceless.

Again, Beam watched in awe, and he learned. What he knew of combat came down to flow. After the first kick, he would have expected Dominus to spin off into something else – but the swordmaster was wiser to the ways of combat than he. He knew the worth of all things. Even a beginners attacking sequence had its place, provided the fighter knew what he was doing.

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Dominus\' understanding was of that level. He was able to send the same attack over and over, walking a tightrope that even a beginner should have dodged, opening himself up to possible deadly counter attacks – but all the while he was in control.

The movement looked the same, but the battle the two men had been fighting, merely with their eyes and with their minds,, it was of an entirely different sort to what an amateur could hope to wield.

With annoyance, Ingolsol tutted to himself. "Your title is well deserved, mortal. I see now why Claudia held such an interest in you. A man can sense your discipline in your blade – you\'ve spent thousands of hours performing the same attacks, making them into the weapons that they are today."

"But you see, like Francis… I scorn that, just a little. Not as doggedly as he did, for he was a fool, and I have ten of thousands of years of knowledge to guide me away from foolishness. No, I believe in something else… Ah, let me show you, instead."