The battle between Shin and Suho was rudimentary at best—nothing flashy or terrifying in scale. However, that was all the more reason to fear them.
The Palace struggled to contain their exchange.
This was the battle between two men trained to walk through volcanic flames without skin to protect their muscles, to scale arctic peaks without the lightest linen to shield their fragile flesh.
Both men—stripped of their talents and relying purely on training instilled by their clan—were like monsters born of nothing but brute force, clashing and shattering the world around them through sheer impact alone.
Shin rolled across the room like a blade cutting silk, his feet never touching ground for more than a heartbeat. Each step cracked stone. Each movement burned afterimages into the dusty air.
