Clang
Clang
Clang
Sparks scattered like fireflies on the verge of combustion as the girl lashed out from every direction—her spear snapping through the air like a whip bound to her sheer will.
She fought with unchained ferocity. Every motion, every strike, was untamed precision.
Shae, for his part, kept pace.
His sword moved like a needle threading through chaos, deflecting each punishing blow with the same calculated sharpness he was known for. But the truth lingered in the tension of each clash.
Tremendous.
That was the word. Every strike she launched was tremendous—overwhelming in weight, speed, and unpredictability.
And he felt it.
His hands ached with each deflection, the shock of her momentum digging into his bones. But pain was irrelevant. Shae's mind stayed sharp, his reflexes never betrayed him.
