Smiling Nero moved into a battle stance. He watched as the artist fighter came at him, and deftly deflected the first strike. But he made it seem faulty, and he let the tip of the blade scrape the only part of him uncovered by the armor of his father, and a single drop of blood stained the sand. Smileing he used his free hand, a luxury the other didn't have, to through sand into the air as he ran to try and get behind the opponent.