The brute pressed forward.
Every swing of his axes split the battlefield like earthquakes, each blow gouging trenches through stone. Sparks leapt from the blades, arcs of heat slashing Vael's skin even when he dodged. His laughter carried through the dust, guttural, merciless.
"Too small. Too thin. You'll snap like a twig."
Vael did not answer. His breath rasped, blood streaking his chin. His daggers gleamed faintly, shadows crawling along their edges.
The brute swung both axes down at once. Vael blurred. Steel cleaved nothing but ground, rock erupting upward. When the dust cleared, Vael was already behind him, dagger poised for the spine.
The brute turned. Too fast for his bulk. An axe swept wide, forcing Vael into shadow again, reappearing three paces back, blood still dripping from his palm where the void had scarred him earlier.
He spat to the side.
["I can't meet him head-on. I cut tendons. Joints. Bleed him piece by piece."]
The brute roared and charged.
★★★
