The werewolf did not answer the provocation with words.
She answered by advancing.
The white ground beneath her feet cracked like glass, and her body disappeared in an explosion of pure force. Victor raised the sword instinctively, but realized in the middle of the movement that he had calculated wrong.
She was too fast.
Not fast like Black Lightning.
There was none of that sensation of acceleration cutting through space, nor the violent crack of energy pushing the body beyond its natural limit. Her movement was different. Organic. Alive. As if every muscle fiber had been created to hunt, leap, and crush.
Her fist struck Victor's blade.
BOOOOOOM!
The sword made of Black Ice, White Fire, and Black Lightning vibrated entirely. The white flames spread from the impact, the lightning crackled unstably, and the Black Ice at the center of the weapon cracked almost to the hilt.
Victor was pushed backward, his feet tearing two long lines into the white ground.
He smiled by reflex.
