The silence that preceded the next clash was almost unnatural. No drums, no goblin screams, just the sound of the Lord's harsh breathing and Kael's controlled breathing as he steadied himself in his stance, golden sword gripped firmly.
The air vibrated between them.
Kael knew he couldn't simply trade blows until the end. The Goblin Lord wasn't just brute strength—he had monstrous endurance and an axe whose cursed energy seemed to devour everything it touched. If he tried to win by strength alone, he might be crushed.
He took a deep breath. "Calm. Rhythm. Mistakes. I just need an opening."
The Lord roared and lunged forward. The ground cracked beneath his weight, each stride a burst of force. The axe descended in a vertical arc that would have split a horse in two. Kael didn't attempt to block. He spun to the side, sliding his feet across the still-smoldering ground, and counterattacked, aiming for the exposed armpit.
