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"And you have no idea how short-sighted you are." At the accusations against his bravery with his weapon, he placed a hand on the hilt and drew the weapon, presenting the blade. His stance was not one of someone who was merely demonstrating an ability to wield a sword; it was an invitation for Asch to draw his own. Similarly, there was no fear in his eyes but rather anger, frustration, and a cold cynicism that acknowledged and accepted that either of them could be hurt as long as that metal was free of its sheath. "Don't compare me to how I was."

Gladly.

He advanced at a pace that steadily gained momentum, closing the distance between himself and his opponent and driving his steel against Asch's. He fully intended to fight with all his strength.

Luke wouldn't be deterred so easily. His previous defeat to Asch was what had inspired him to begin practicing more seriously in the first place, and though his nerve had faltered, his body had not forgotten the movements. He escaped the reach of the counterattack, raising his blade to stop Asch's sword with his own and return the attack. If Asch was expecting the same level of skill Luke had commanded the last time they'd faced each other in direct combat, then he was in for a surprise.

"Of course." Who wouldn't practice after failing at the skill on which they prided themselves the most? He seized the momentum he had and continued to drive his assault. His breath was already coming heavier, but he refused to lose to his stamina; he instead doubled his efforts in compensation.

Luke was determined not to lose his early lead, and he offered no opening in his movements. He hadn't felt any overwhelming desire to prove himself - nor indeed any desire to interact with Asch at all - but now that it had come down to it, he wasn't going to be satisfied with anything less than his brother's acknowledgement. This had gone on long enough.

Seizing the moment, he drove forward once more, parrying with a twisting movement that pulled the enemy sword from its opponent's grasp, tossing it aside. He followed up with a halting gesture, holding his blade parallel to the ground against Asch to prevent him from retrieving the weapon. Though his breathing was effortful and his grip unstable, his features betrayed no indication that he was ready to stand down. He awaited his brother's response.

Luke recognized the resignation in his brother's stance as well as the suggestion of acknowledgment in his eyes. That was fine. That was all he really needed. He lowered his weapon and returned it to its scabbard, moving to return to where he had left his jacket. He saw no need to gloat nor demand penance in any way; he was satisfied with his results and there was nothing that needed to be said about it.

He didn't progress very far before staggering, catching himself and leaning heavily against one of the pews. Well damn, he should have seen this coming.

There was a wave of nausea that briefly whited out his vision, and he found it wise to maneuver himself into a seat. He compressed his posture slightly, leaning forward with his elbows against his knees and his forehead against his palm and exhaling in ragged breaths. He was used to feeling varying degrees of tired or sore, even more so after exerting himself, but it seemed he'd gone a little overboard. Worth it? Almost definitely, as much as he hated that awful ill feeling.

He lifted his head slightly and inclined a sidelong glance in his brother's direction. What was with this guy? Shouting and taunting at him one minute only to express some kind of concern or - Arceus forbid - empathy? It wasn't really an unwelcome change in his demeanor, though, unexpected though it was.

He exhaled a short breath, closing his eyes and giving a faint smile at the thought of his standoffish brother actually demonstrating normal human emotions. "Should have figured that out by now, huh?" he said. "I'll be fine in a minute." He just hoped it wasn't too long a minute.