BOOM—!
The moment Ryen's feet hit the ground again, the stone beneath him cracked like shattered glass, fissures racing outward in all directions. The air quivered from the sudden burst of holy energy.
The masked man didn't even flinch. His coat rippled lightly from the wind pressure, but his posture remained perfectly still — elegant, almost disinterested.
Ryen lunged.
Swoosh!
The holy blade sliced through the air, light scattering in streaks of gold.
But the man moved — again — impossibly fluid, like his body and the shadows obeyed the same command.
Clang!
His fingertips brushed the sword's edge, deflecting it with a faint metallic chime. Sparks rained between them, sizzling out as quickly as they appeared.
Ryen twisted mid-swing, dragging his sword across in a wide arc.
WHOOSH!
A crescent of holy light tore across the ground, colliding into the far wall with a deafening Stone and dust exploded into the air, swallowing half the chamber in smoke.
