Thud!
Alaric's fist cut through empty air as Nyra sidestepped smoothly. Before he could recover, her hand snapped out in a palm strike aimed at his ribs.
He twisted, blocking with his forearm. The impact jarred his bones.
She wasn't holding back as much.
He immediately countered with a low sweep, trying to take out her legs. Nyra jumped backward, creating distance, her violet eyes tracking his every movement with unsettling focus.
They circled each other in the private training room, one of the privileges granted to Silver Crown students.
Spacious, well-lit, with padded floors and walls lined with practice weapons. The door was locked, ensuring privacy.
No essence. No techniques. Just hand-to-hand combat.
And Nyra was good.
Better than good.
Alaric feinted left, then drove forward with a straight punch. She deflected it with minimal effort, redirecting his momentum and forcing him off-balance. Her counter came immediately, an elbow strike toward his temple.
