The handsome youth held his sword forward in his right hand, his left held out to the side for balance.
The sharp tip of the sword glinted with a cold light.
The Swift Sword was about 1.2 meters long, but its blade was only two fingers wide, making the whole thing look like a magnified sewing needle.
"Sir, there's no need for this, is there?" the youth said with a smile. It was a smile as warm as a spring breeze.
Colin completely ignored him.
He leaped forward, switching to a one-handed grip as he thrust violently.
The handsome youth remained unruffled. He drew his body back while thrusting out with his own one-handed sword, the tip aimed straight for his opponent's forearm.
Looking at the guard on the Swift Sword's hilt—an entanglement of several curved metal strips that protected the entire hand—Colin quickly pulled back his strike. He didn't dare risk a trade that would leave a bloody hole in his arm.
