"That was a mistake," she whispered, turning toward the battlefield, her sword reigniting with a faint flicker of flame.
Vraxus stood at the hall's center, breathing heavier now, black blood oozing from a burn mark on his side where Leon's last Scorch Spiral had struck.
His hook dripped with gore, the staff hissing with heat.
Terya faced him, her legs spread, daggers trembling in her grip, blood trickling down her thigh, her torn top barely covering her chest, sweat and blood mingling on her skin.
Vraxus swung his spiked chain in a wide arc, the air shrieking.
Terya ducked, her movements sluggish, pain slowing her, but lunged forward, only to be repelled by a sharp slam of the staff against her forearm.
She hissed, retreating, her arm numb, her daggers nearly slipping.
"You're persistent," Vraxus said, his voice a low rumble, his four arms flexing. "But tired."
Terya didn't reply, adjusting her grip, her green eyes fierce, her body coiled despite the pain.
