Ludwig took a step back. With the reveal that Titania managed to survive up to sixteen chakrams to Ludwig that meant that the enemy in front of him hadn't even started warming up. The number sat in the back of his head like a stone. Sixteen meant margin. Sixteen meant he had not yet been made to work. The wrists of the hooded thing were loose. The feet had not once needed to adjust. Ludwig measured the space, the nailed bodies, the plates of eyes and tongues, and felt the fight begin to change shape behind his ribs.
And the pace was about to start ramping up.
"Vengeance." Ludwig called, and his body burnt bright red, a magical aura that increased his reflexes, damage and speed. Heat climbed the forearms and braided with the breath. The world tilted forward by a finger's width. The edges of the enemy's rings grew cleaner. The hum of the chains beneath his sleeve settled into a pleasant pressure against the bones.
