As they moved in tandem, Asher quickly realized that Hillary's speed was escalating with each passing moment, his rapier flashing like fleeting bolts of silver. The rhythm of their exchange, once measured, had abruptly shifted without warning, as if the battle had taken on a tempo of its own.
In a blink, Hillary's rapier darted forward. Asher's instincts flared, he moved to intercept, but his blade met nothing but air. The strike had already come and gone, too swift to track.
Then came the sting. Steel met flesh in a single, seamless motion, clean and sharp, like a knife sliding through butter.
A fresh gash split open across Asher's skin, but he didn't so much as flinch. After enduring countless wounds over the past five hours, his body had grown numb to pain.
But Virelass responded without hesitation, the sentient weapon pulsed once, and the torn flesh stitched itself shut as though it had never been touched.
