A cold rain falls on the barren planet. From behind his helmet Sigismund's cold steel eyes lock gaze with the self proclaimed "greatest swordsman of the Emperor's children". Lucius licks his lips, buzzing with ecstasy. The scars across his face are self inflicted
. Sigismund thought to himself. He's probably never even felt the bite of an opponent's sword.
A cold chill shot down Lucius' back, underneath his immaculate power armor. The Champion clad in yellow that bore a black cross across his chest seemed unnerved. Stoic. A grimace spread across Lucius' face. "you seem to think less of me, high and mighty dog of the Emperor,"
"I think less of traitors than I do the mud beneath my feet," replied a solemn Sigismund. His eyes still locked with Lucius as he began wrapping the chain around his arm. Lucius only smirked as he drew his blade.