"Let's see if you can keep that luck going."
Without warning, he leapt forward.
It wasn't a run — it was a burst. The air cracked in his wake as he covered the distance between them in a heartbeat.
Avin barely had time to react. He twisted his body, swerving to the left, the sword's edge grazing the air beside his face — he could feel the heat of friction as the blade sliced past. But the figure didn't stop there.
Mid-swing, the man's wrist snapped unnaturally, bending at an angle that made Avin's stomach churn. The blade curved back from its initial trajectory, spinning into a reverse horizontal slash.
"Shit!"
Avin ducked just in time. The tip of the sword carved a line through the bark of a nearby tree, sparks bursting as steel kissed wood.
He stumbled backward, his feet scraping through the dirt and fallen leaves. The man was already upon him again — relentless, his strikes a blur of movement and precision. Every swing whistled through the air with deadly rhythm.
Clang!
