As the blade flashed in the corner of Zeak's eye he ignited his hilt once again and brought it above his chest, both hands firmly clasped around the hilt as the other man's blade clashed upon his own.
Zeak pushed against the man's blade with all his strength but from his position on the floor...
Zeak had anticipated the mans move, he was quite fast and confident, that much Zeak had already gathered. As his opponent took the powerful swing, Zeak disengaged the blade of his lightsaber and sent himself to the floor at an alarming speed, narrowly dodging the blade as it came at him...
Zeak had doubted the man would hand it over, yet he had; that was a little troubling.
"I'm sure you will understand if I don't take your word for it," Zeak began, tossing the hilt back to his student and pulling out his own. The temperature of the room had seemingly frozen the silver...
Zeak didn't make one shred of acknowledgment, he continued his gaze toward the blizzard. His cold eyes had seen many things, a blizzard was calming to his dark mind; it destroyed everything in its path, something he himself aimed to do.
"Many believe that; few are correct," Zeak began...