Chapter 1083: Forced Confidence

Sindal's swordplay was... a glimpse of perfection? 

It was... satisfying to see.

It was... a satisfying and peaceful feeling... that such occurrences could exist. 

It was difficult-- nigh impossible for Tycondrius to comprehend what he was seeing. 

But there was one notion he immediately understood. 

It was *not* a Blade Dance. 

There was no chaos. There was no order. There wasn't even a stink of her Elven ancestors.

There was... no form? 

A formless sword art? 

It was a paradox-- the theory behind it, impossible... and even if it was possible, mastering such an art was certainly outside the Realm of mortal limitations. 

Tempest attempted to renew her dual-sword assault. It was a textbook strategy, utilizing a second sword instead of a shield or buckler, increasing the rate of offensive strikes aiming to overwhelm a single opponent.