The humid morning air cracked with the sound of rapid clashes like gunshots. The crowd could only watch in awe, barely understanding what was happening. The light of the sun crept over the Novice village until it reached them.
Faust fought like a rhino. Nothing moved him back, pain didn't phase him, and he hit like a truck. Each of his blows shook the air. Each move, twist, and kick felt so violent that people wondered how his body didn't break under the pressure.
And even then, there was a method to the aggression that most wouldn't see.
How he timed Drekar's moves to make blows inescapable. The casual way his orthodox blocks and counters always saved him in sticky spots.
Most people would never see the serpent under the suit of violence and madness that Faust wore.
But Drekar did.
He paced himself and never presumed to have Faust on the ropes. He was like mist, impossible to touch but always near.
