Khon flexed the arm I cut. Just a graze. But Hellflame doesn't care about depth.
His hand twitched once before steadying. Then he exhaled through his nose, calm, focused. His blade dipped, not in defeat, but in acknowledgment.
"You're adapting."
"I'm done adapting," I said. "Now I show you what I built."
The arena floor pulsed underfoot as he moved. Faster now. The Whispering Blade sang again. The arena was feeling the pressure.
We were blitzing through the air, exchanging blows every tenth of a second. Seraph's Echo was letting me close the gap, even if it was not fully developed. I slashed at him. Blood flew across the arena.
We were past rhythm. Past form. Just movement. Just reaction.
Khon stepped into a slash that almost split my ribs open. I twisted, let it graze, and answered with a rising cut across his chest. He staggered, barely. His blade curved around to catch my thigh.
Blood spilled. Mine. His. It didn't matter anymore.
