The metal tip whirred like a drill, never heavy, always precise. He forced Ethan backward, step by step.
Blood pounded in David's ears. He tasted the past—his arrogance, his mistakes—then let it go.
He was here to fight the man across from him, not a ghost of his former self. He wanted to prove to Ethan that he's an Equal, a rival!
He was now carrying the flow of the battle, the tempo was on his side. He could win!
But could he really
Ethan recovered the next second, eyes bright with excitement.
He shifted seamlessly into Ember Slice, the first form of Crimson Edge technique, a single smooth arc that felt both fluid and lethal. David braced, planting his spear diagonally, letting the blow slide off. The tip of the spear rattled in his hands—but he stood firm.
A beat passed. Then David whispered, almost to himself than to Ethan, "You still surprise me, Drakethorne."
