Amidst the chaotic symphony of battle, Tōga's body bore the marks of relentless combat. Each scar and bruise was a sterling indication to the ordeal he endured, a visible manifestation of the physical toll extracted by continuous magical confrontations. Yet, his spirit remained unbroken, fueled by a relentless drive to overcome the overwhelming odds stacked against him.
As the last of the squadron fell, only Ichi remained, his demeanor as calm as the eye of a storm. The corners of his lips curled into a sardonic smile as he observed Tōga's fatigued stance. "Impressive work thinning the herd, but fatigue has etched itself into your bones," Ichi taunted, the moonlight glinting off his armor, casting eerie shadows on the sand.
Despite the weariness that clawed at his limbs, Tōga's resolve did not falter. He understood the critical importance of this final confrontation. With a deep, steadying breath that seemed to draw the very fire from the earth, Tōga rallied his waning strength. His eyes, reflecting the ferocity of a dragon's heart, fixed intently on Ichi.