Meanwhile, at the heart of the storm, the real battle began.
Sigvar was the first to move. He let out a thunderous roar that echoed through the roaring winds as he charged forward, his greatsword crackling with lightning.
Vaenyra didn't move an inch. She stepped forward to meet him head-on.
When their blades clashed, the ground shook. Sparks burst from the impact, flashing through the rain like shards of light.
Sigvar's attacks came wild and heavy, each swing carrying the weight of a storm. He struck from every direction, right, left, above, below, never slowing, never holding back.
But Vaenyra met every blow with calm precision. Her steps were light despite the soaked ground, her sword flowing like water. She blocked when needed, sidestepped when she had to, moving as if she could already see where his next strike would land.
Sigvar laughed wildly, his voice mixing with the thunder around them.
