'O–oh… It's over.'
The dark-armored envoy froze completely.
A single drop of cold sweat rolled slowly down the side of his pale face, tracing the sharp line of his jawline before disappearing beneath the high metal collar of his breastplate.
His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
'What strength and swordsmanship… He truly is a prodigy with the blade.'
If Ren twitched his wrist even a fraction of an inch, the friendly spar would instantly turn into a messy decapitating execution.
The speed of that final maneuver had completely, utterly bypassed the envoy's seasoned perception.
He had survived decades of brutal border skirmishes and high-tier mercenary engagements.
He was trained to track the micro-movements of a combatant's shoulders and the subtle shifts in their center of gravity but Ren hadn't telegraphed a single thing.
