WhiteDwarf/Chaplain: Clash blades, gazing

You each approach. Blades clash. Fractal-folded hard light screams as it crashes against metal. The pressure each of you exert on each other's stances can only barely match the gravity each of you are exerting on the world. You speak to each other, but only briefly.

Chaplain: STILL UNWORTHY!
WhiteDwarf: Hhhh... ah, but I am only testing you.
Chaplain: LIBRA'S SCALES ARE WHAT TESTS!
Chaplain: Fight with all your worthy effort, or die!
WhiteDwarf: Even still. I have my own need to test you.
Chaplain: You can afford no trial and error, while you lack your predictive power!