Zarek froze in disbelief. He knew exactly how strong Zerin was—her physical prowess could rival trained knights, her instincts sharpened through years of blood and survival. There was no way a mere miner should've been able to send her flying like that.
Just as he was about to rush forward, the thick veil of dust and shattered stone parted with a sharp gust. From within the haze, a familiar silhouette emerged—bent slightly, her armor cracked, face streaked with grime and blood. Zerin stood there, chest heaving, her expression dark with humiliation and rage.
"You piece of lowly scum…" she spat, voice trembling with fury as she wiped the blood from her mouth. Her eyes, wide and glimmering under the dim mine lights, burned with an almost bestial light.
