The Guardian took a step backward.
It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but Liam immediately picked up on it. He was still struggling to remain upright, his entire body aching from the punishment he had endured. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, his breathing was heavy, and his legs trembled beneath him. Nevertheless, he forced himself into a fighting stance, raising his fists as he prepared for another round.
He wasn't done yet.
However, something about the Guardian's movements seemed different. The old man wasn't lowering his body or positioning his hands in preparation for another attack. In fact, he appeared to have no intention of fighting at all. His long white robes floated gently around him as he studied Liam with those pale, emotionless eyes.
"I have not encountered one with such a spirit in a very long time."
His voice echoed through the chamber, carrying an ancient quality that seemed to make the very air tremble.
