The Streamsteed bared its crimson-stained teeth, fixing its dull white eyes on the spot where Astr had landed. With heightened auditory senses, it discerned the sound of Astr rising, gripping the sword hilt, prompting a concealed sense of astonishment within the beast:
'Formidable. His every motion is precise and lethal, void of any sloppiness. Were it not for the oddly juvenile sounds of his muscles, I might have mistaken him for a seasoned veteran.'
"You're no weakling," the Streamsteed acknowledged, a hint of appreciation in its heart. "Consider surrendering in death; kneel, and I may pardon your transgressions."
"Hah."
Astr chuckled, head tilted, spitting out a mouthful of blood. "Repeating yourself, eh? Kneel, kiss my boot, and I'll grant you a swift demise."
Astr felt uneasy. Those mere eight seconds exacted a toll, draining his coffers and leaving his health at a perilous 48%. His arms hung weakly.
