Celine's blade shifted, the movement fluid and deliberate, a predator testing its prey. Her sword carved a serpentine path through the air, each strike flowing into the next with the grace of a dancer who had long since forgotten the meaning of hesitation.
Seraphina's eyes tracked every motion, her blade snapping up to meet each strike.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The rhythm was relentless, a deadly symphony of steel and will.
Celine's laugh was light, almost musical, carrying a note of genuine delight. "Haha! Good, good! Keep dancing, shiny knight! Show me what that one arm can do!"
Seraphina's blade swept low, aiming for Celine's exposed thigh. Celine twisted, the strike grazing her armor, and Seraphina used the momentum to pivot—driving her shoulder into Celine's chest.
The impact sent Celine stumbling back, her boots scraping against the cracked earth. For just a moment, her guard dropped. A flicker of surprise passed through her eyes.
