The clashes continued without pause.
The air was filled with the sounds of impacts, rapid footsteps, and heavy breathing.
There was no room for prolonged thought.
Everyone moved based on instinct and purpose.
Adrian Blackwood kept pressing forward.
Every strike sharper than before.
No hesitation.
No gaps left open.
Before him, Marcus Sterling held his ground.
But he was no longer completely at ease.
His movements were still precise.
Yet there was a slight change.
A hint of pressure.
"You are becoming predictable," Marcus said softly.
Adrian did not answer.
But his rhythm changed.
Faster.
Harder to anticipate.
Marcus blocked.
But his feet slid back half a step.
Minimal.
But visible enough.
On the other side.
Leonard Graves moved like a storm.
No fixed pattern.
No certain direction.
Yet every movement achieved one result.
Enemies falling.
"You'll have to do better than this," he said casually.
But the number of opponents remained vast.
They kept coming.
