Her blond hair was pulled back tight, blue eyes locked on Arkanos, a look of respect and defiance in her stance.
The knights fell silent, stepping back to clear the dirt-streaked courtyard, the air tensing like a drawn bow.
Arkanos's lips curved, pride flashing in his eyes. "Bold as ever, Seraphine. Come, then, let's see how much you've improved." He raised his sword, stance loose, inviting her to strike.
They clashed like thunder, blades meeting in a shower of sparks that hissed as they hit the ground, kicking up puffs of dust.
Seraphine was fast, her strikes sharp and controlled, aiming for gaps in Arkanos's guard—a thrust to his chest, a slash to his thigh.
He parried each, fluid as water, his blade weaving a silver dance, boots sliding over the dirt with grace. Seraphine pressed harder, feinting left then cutting right, her armor clanking as she moved, sweat beading on her brow.
