The clatter of the fallen weapon echoed through the courtyard, but no one dared move. Nuhna's eyes swept across the armed men; one by one, they faltered, their bravado peeling away under her unwavering stare.
But not all were cowed. From behind the ranks, a deeper voice cut through the tension.
"Enough! Do not fear her tricks."
A tall figure emerged—his presence cold, his movements steady. Unlike the others, his eyes carried no hesitation, only a calculating calm. The crowd instinctively stepped back, for they knew this man: the commander who had never once failed in battle.
He drew his blade with deliberate slowness, the steel catching a shard of sunlight.
"If you are truly what they whisper," he said, voice low yet sharp as glass, "then prove it—against me."
The ground seemed to hush, as though even the wind awaited her response.