The sky brightened with a golden hue from the east, washing the world clean of its black-and-white shades and returning it to a clear blue.
Puffs of white clouds drifted away as birds in the treetops began their morning songs, blending with the rhythmic clang of steel on steel that had echoed all night.
As a Rank-3 Practitioner, Lucen Varnarest hadn't shifted his stance once since the first light of dawn. His clothes remained unsoiled, his expression blank, and his grip on the sheathed sword relaxed as he parried and evaded every one of Adyr's strikes with minimal effort.
Adyr was hardly different in composure, though a touch more worn and tired. His breath was steady, his gaze flat, as if he hadn't spent the entire night trading blows.
Hundreds of moves had been exchanged without a single one landing.
