Not defensively this time, not using Kir'stalan's flowing deflection, but offensively. He advanced across the arena in a burst of speed that left footprints of disturbed sand in his wake, his hands moving to form the opening strikes of a blood sorcerer's combat form.
The technique that his aunt taught him.
El'ran met him without hesitation, their blade meeting his manifested blood magic in a clash that sent another shockwave rippling outward.
This time, the impact cracked the already-weakened arena floor, forcing deeper fissures through stone that had been solid for millennia.
"Yes," El'ran said, his voice carrying the exhilaration of a true warrior finally facing a genuine challenge.
"Yes, this is what combat should be."
They collided again and again, their exchanges accelerating into a blur of motion and power. Each impact sent shockwaves that visibly deformed the arena and forced the evacuated crowd to move even further back despite Sarhita's protective barrier.
