The moment the smoke cleared from the General's scorched bracers, Lucas moved.
He did not wait for acknowledgment.
He did not retreat to measure distance again.
He stepped forward and space folded beneath his feet, collapsing the gap between them in an instant. At the same time, fire coiled along his forearm, not as wild flame but as tightly wound streams compressed by spatial pressure until they burned with a pale, violent intensity.
The General barely had time to raise his blade before Lucas struck.
Their weapons collided with a shock that split the frozen ground around them. Heat erupted outward in a circular wave, melting ice and turning frost to steam. The General felt the difference immediately. This was no longer a cautious opponent testing limits.
Lucas was driving in.
