Talon's eyes twitched. He hardly understood what had just happened. It was a feeling that Oliver could well understand, for he felt it every time he played Battle against the likes of Volguard or Skullic. Those men were so adept they could build advantages using properties that Oliver did not understand, and then a fatal blow would be struck, as if from nothing.
"The sword of impatience…" Talon said, looking at the wound. Oliver was horrified to see understanding there – and so soon. "Good of you to teach me that lesson, Young Wolf. Allow me to turn it against you."
The thing about strategy – it was dependent on the resources a man already had available. As carefully as Oliver had built his bridge, with what strength he had, someone like Talon, so deep into the Fourth Boundary, could shatter that bridge of Oliver's in an instant, using his superior strength. The man attempted to do just that.
He ignored the wound to his side, even deeper than the wound to his back, shrugging off the blow as if it were nothing at all, despite the blood that ran down his side. He twisted his hips, and swung his glave in the most potent strike that Oliver had seen him throw yet. Oliver prepared himself in an instant, getting his legs beneath him, and widening his eye to time his parry just right.
The strike stopped just an inch out, however. A feint, Oliver recognised after an instant. The General had been putting all his effort into making his strike showy, whilst still holding something back. He used that extra to take a step forward, closing the gap between them, and trapping Oliver in place.
Now he went for a true strike, or so Oliver assumed, given the way he threw it. The man must have determined that Oliver wasn't the type of foe that he could defeat in a single blow – not anymore. And so, he'd determined that the quickest path would be to imitate Oliver, and build his way forward ever so carefully.
'Is this the blow..?' Oliver wondered, watching carefully the way the man distributed his weight. There was so much force in the strike, that if it hit him, even with a block, it would have cast him backwards – but the same had been true for the strike before it.
Oliver grit his teeth, and made to parry regardless, knowing that letting it run free, or even dodging wasn't an option. One would cost him his life, and the other would cost him initiative.
'This is it,' Oliver confirmed to himself. There was no way Talon could reverse the moment of such a strike, whilst gaining ground at the same time. It had to be a true strike. He treated it as such.
Yet once more, the strike stopped just short of Oliver's flesh, and the General managed to take another step forward.
"Is this it?" Talon said, grinning. "So this is what you Swords are so proud of? This is mere strategy, boy! On what board of strategy can you defeat me?"
Now Talon was in so close that he could reach out and grab Oliver with a hand if he chose to. It was all but checkmate. Oliver knew that, and from the way Talon swaggered, he must have known that as well.
He shifted both his hands to his glaive, and kept his space. If Oliver dashed back, he wouldn't have the strength to defend a single blow, and Talon would merely swarm him. His only option, once more, was to stand his ground.
"Claudia…" He murmured. He could well have done with her strength right about now. That same overwhelming power that had managed to smash dozens of men at once.
'The conditions have not been met,' Claudia said, a hint of regret in her voice.
Oliver didn't know exactly what the conditions were, and he supposed that Claudia didn't know exactly either, else she would have told him. She could merely sense when the power was there to be wielded, and when it was not.
Now Oliver was forced to rely on nothing but his own martial skill.
Talon's blows came with the aggression and force that Oliver expected from them. It was the same blow that he'd been struggling to parry for so long, yet now it was thrown from right up close. There was hardly any time to track its arc.
It slammed towards Oliver's side, looking to slash him cleanly in half, but Oliver knew by now that Talon's slashes were never so straightforward. There was always a flourish, making the arc more complicated, and making it far more difficult to defend against.
His nerves got the better of him, and he was forced to step back, despite the initiative that he was giving up in doing so.
Talon's eyes lit up as he gave chase. He measured the distance, and altered the course of his blade, set to punish Oliver for his easy retreat.
But then all of a sudden, Oliver was right in front of him once more. Talon's blade was overextended, and Oliver had stepped in past the middle of the glaive shaft, with his sword pointed at Talon's torso. He loosed the strike before the General could think to block it, jabbing it deep into his other, wide-open side. The sword plunged in, and came out the back.
Oliver kept his own advice. He withdrew the blade instantly, and put distance between him and his enemy once more. He was right to, for a glaive sliced through the air where he'd just been.
"How..?" Talon muttered, staring at his wound, and seeing his glaive slice through nothing but empty air. "I had the initiative. I could feel it, as though this were a battlefield of its own. A strong sense… How could you overcome that?"
"There are many tricks that make a Sword," Oliver smiled. "It just so happens that I know a few of them."
He was careful not to say any more, given how quickly Talon had gained an insight based on the small slip of words Oliver had let loose earlier. The General merely grunted in response, as he sought to answer the question for himself. Oliver dared to hope that he would not solve it quickly.