The force behind the strike made her grunt softly as she absorbed it, her arms straining, her shoulders tensing.
He was relentless.
Each attack came clean and fast, his pole moving with a speed that made it difficult to track.
She could feel the strength behind every strike, could feel the weight of his intent, could feel the pressure building.
Her eyes tracked his movements, her body responding, her training kicking in as she parried, deflected, and sidestepped, refusing to be overwhelmed.
Her breathing quickened slightly, her heart pounding as adrenaline surged.
Around them, the elites were frozen.
Their earlier murmurs had died completely, replaced by stunned silence as they watched the exchange.
The instructors were no different.
Their attention was fully locked on the fight now, their expressions serious, their gazes sharp.
