"Pick up your sword, Terence. And prepare… to die."
Ren's fingers curled around the hilt of his battered sword as he pushed himself to his feet.
At this point, he was beyond exhausted, but the fire in his chest burned hotter than the ache in his limbs.
He looked up and met Myra's gaze, calm, steady, and utterly unshaken, and without another thought, he lunged forward.
The distance between them vanished in a heartbeat.
His blade swung for her side in a clean arc, aiming for the joint in her armor. She casually turned her body just enough that the sword screeched harmlessly across the curved plate.
Before he could recover, her arm shot forward, the pommel of her sword smashing into his ribs. The air rushed from his lungs as some shattered, but he gritted his teeth, pivoting into another slash.
She didn't even flinch. Her blade came up, catching his strike and pushing it aside with insulting ease.
