Gareth wiped blood from his mouth and settled into a proper combat stance, his earlier arrogance replaced by wary respect. "Lucky shot, slave-blood," he spat, though his voice lacked its previous confidence. "But now I'm done playing around."
Golden light began to emanate from Gareth's body as he channeled his aura, the energy crackling around him like visible electricity. His sword gleamed with enhanced power, while his muscles swelled with supernatural strength.
Mira moved to call the fight, recognizing that things had escalated far beyond a simple evaluation, but movement in the observation window caught her eye. A figure stood in the shadowed viewing area, someone who had arrived without announcement but whose presence commanded absolute attention.
Helena Voss.
