The ogre did not wait. It moved, and the air screamed.
The bastard sword came down in an arc that should have split Nero in two. He was not there. Golden lightning carried him sideways, the blade passing so close he felt the wind of it tear at his clothes. He counter-thrusted, his sword aimed at the ogre's ribs.
The ogre was already moving. The bastard sword swept back, catching Nero's blade with a clang that sent shockwaves through the field. Nero felt the impact in his bones, his arms shuddering. The ogre's strength was immense, beyond anything he had faced.
He disengaged, leaping back, his feet barely touching the ground before he was moving again. Lightning crackled around his limbs, his sword, his eyes. He circled the ogre, testing, probing. A thrust to the throat. A slash at the knee. A feint to the chest that became a cut to the arm.
