Sam darted ahead again. Sephiroth swung his blade in a flash of silver, aiming to cleave him from his right shoulder down to the contralateral thigh. Sam moved his body parallel to the strike and glanced it off his arm. He dipped in closer and pulled the trigger on his sheath. A red streak erupted from the scabbard. With blistering speed, Sam swung it ahead, aiming straight for the neck— only for Sephiroth to somehow recover from the strike he missed and block it. Sam was baffled, but he swung again, and again. But no matter how fast he went, no matter what angle, Sephiroth found a way to block it. Edge ground against edge.

“Hm,” said Sephiroth. “Is this really your best?”

Another swing sent Sam back. They were at a stalemate.

- Ragnarust Round 4