Zayen's form flickered in the blink of an eye, the force of Ragnar's swing sending him sliding back a few meters. His expression remained calm, almost teasing, as if this exchange were nothing more than a warm-up.
Ragnar didn't hesitate. Lightning surged violently along his arms and hammer, crackling across the shattered plaza like living electricity. "You move fast… too fast for most, but speed alone won't beat me!" His voice roared over the storm, each word resonating with raw, god-chosen authority.
Zayen's eyes narrowed, studying Ragnar's movements—the way the lightning followed the hammer, the slight weight shift before each swing, and the rhythm buried within the chaos of the attacks.
Without wasting a second, Zayen moved again with incredible speed, leaving only a faint afterimage behind. Sparks and scorched stone marked where he had been a heartbeat ago.
