"Sophie…" Bruce said softly.
His gaze pierced through the last wave of undead skeletons collapsing before him and locked onto the battle unfolding far ahead, at the distant heart of the dungeon world.
"…Beautiful."
The word escaped him before he could stop it.
He watched, momentarily forgetting the chaos behind him.
He didn't know which movement art Sophie was using, what name it carried, what system classification it fell under, but it fit her perfectly. Every step, every cut, every shift of position felt natural, fluid, almost inevitable. There was no waste in her movements, no hesitation. It wasn't just combat. It was expression. Everything felt so natural.
The enemy she faced towered over the battlefield.
