They both blitzed toward each other in one blur of motion, lunging their fists forward to meet the other.
Percival's right clenched fist parried into Ethan's right clenched fist in a clash that raised a violent gust of wind, spreading through their immediate perimeter.
That single clash instantly sent every bone in Ethan's body rattling in aching pain. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold his ground.
Percival grinned deviously at Ethan, quickly retracted his fist, and in the same motion swung his clawed hand.
Ethan's gaze widened. Then, he instinctively vanished in a burst of black smoke, reappearing some distance backward.
His left hand quickly flew toward the shoulder of his right arm, gripping it in pain as if he had felt a bone or two crack within. "Was he always this strong?" he thought to himself.
Of course, he knew that as a warrior class, Percival relied on his physical strength, which was only heightened further as a werewolf.
