A Grinding Impact

You spoke of an epic fight. The silver beast beside the desk remained unmoved, so I brought the clash to it. It was a dense cylinder of cold steel, solid and unyielding. I sank into a wide stance, locked my boots against the wood, and drove both palms hard into its flank. My joints groaned under the counter-pressure. I did not step back. I leaned my entire weight into the strike until the floorboards squeaked and the metal finally gave ground, scraping two inches across the floor. A worthy opponent.