The courtyard fell silent as the final three soldiers shifted their stance. They were getting ready.
The air grew heavier, not with killing intent, but with something cleaner, sharper.
Resolve.
The kind soldiers forged in battlefields where giving up meant dying.
Damien felt it immediately. 'They've changed.' He thought with a small grin on his face.
Their feet planted more firmly. Their breath steadied. Their weapons lowered slightly, not in fear, but in preparation.
He narrowed his eyes, excitement stirring.
Then, one of the three kicked the ground.
The fight resumed.
The soldier dashed forward, blade slicing horizontally in a clean arc. Damien stepped to the side, only for the second soldier to appear suddenly at his left, thrusting with precise timing.
Damien leaned back, only for the third to sweep at his ankle.
A coordinated tri-strike.
It was both clean and efficient and by no means was it an accident.
