He could feel his muscles screaming, his breath ragged. This was a desperate fight, and he was losing ground.
Then, a sliver of an opening. The dagger-wielder, in his zeal, overextended slightly. It was a fraction of a second, but it was all Ye Yang needed. With a guttural roar, he ignored the Warhammer's next swing, a calculated risk.
He twisted his body, letting the hammer whistle past his ear, and unleashed a lightning-fast horizontal slash.
The blade bit deep. The dagger-wielder let out a choked gasp, his eyes widening in shock before he crumpled to the ground, his twin blades clattering uselessly beside him.
"No!" the brute roared, enraged.
He swung his Warhammer wildly, fuelled by fury. Ye Yang, despite his fatigue, capitalized on the man's momentary lapse in control.
He ducked under a wide, telegraphed swing and, with a surge of adrenaline, brought his sword down in a swift, brutal chop.
