"Again, apostle. Without holding back."
Luke lunged, his sword a blur of violet light. Fyren, standing across from him in the arena of Haven, met it with a casual swipe of his sword, sending the apostle stumbling back a step. The shockwave from the clash swept outward, blasting up the translucent walls of the runic barrier.
"Wow," Korra said, staring at the two. "They're fast."
"Of course they are," Ernyst said, folding his arms, feet a few inches from the ground. "Even without mana, their physical bodies reach the upper stages of sixth-level."
