And more.
SLASH… SLASH… SLASH… The attacks flowed together seamlessly. Each strike landed successfully, each strike cut a chunk of Drystan's armor.
This was not simply swordsmanship. It was a lesson. A demonstration. This was what advanced swordsmanship looked like.
Boom… Drystan staggered backward. Another strike landed with the flat of the blade against his shoulder. His body spun and before he could recover, another impact struck his ribs.
CRACK… Disturbing noise of bones being crushed, his armor dented inward. Then a third blow and then a fourth. All struck him squarely.
Forget about parrying; he was unable to see the sword strikes, much less react.
Fortunately for him, Reinhardt struck him with the flat side of his blade. Nevertheless, he was in for a world of hurt.
Each strike felt like a ten-ton hammer blow. In the blink of an eye, Drystan was covered in bruises. Blood trickled from the corner of his lips and his breathing grew ragged.
