The punch bent sideways, slipping clean past his shoulder like gravity had tilted twenty degrees.
Eldrin was already turning, already striking with his other hand, sunlight snapping across his knuckles.
But Dythrael vanished again.
Not blinked.
Not teleported.
Skipped.
He reappeared ten meters back, floating still, like he'd never moved.
Eldrin clenched his jaw.
Maeven's voice drifted down from the ruined balcony. "You're good, Sunblade. But not good enough."
Eldrin didn't look at him.
He kept his eyes on Dythrael.
'He doesn't dodge. He bends time just far enough to step around the blow. He's not thinking in seconds. He's thinking in slices.'
Then the worst thought came.
'If he's this strong… then he has to be the leader—'
The crater beneath his boots deepened as his mana surged again.
Not recklessly.
But enough.
"Come down," he said flatly.
Dythrael blinked. Slowly.
Then—
He did.
He stepped forward.
And the entire world tilted around him.
Time bent again.
