The silence that preceded the first movement was almost sacred.
The wind blew between the tense bodies, lifting grains of sand that cut through the air like tiny blades. Breaths were heavy, and every heartbeat seemed to announce the inevitable.
Strax stood motionless in the center of the courtyard, his feet planted firmly on the ground, his gaze fixed ahead—too calm for someone surrounded by fifty warriors hungry to prove their worth.
Then, the first man shouted and charged at him.
Strax didn't move until the last instant.
When the fist came, he simply leaned his body to the side and returned the blow—a short, dry, quick straight punch like a hammer blow.
The sound of the impact echoed through the courtyard, dense, muffled—THUM.
The man fell on his back, unconscious, before he even hit the ground.
