The sound of the impact cut through the air like thunder.
The two swords collided with enough force to create a small crater in the ground. Damon pushed with all his might, muscles tensed, gaze fixed—and, for the first time, it was Caerth who recoiled.
The veteran slid a few meters back on the beaten earth, his boots leaving deep tracks. He looked up and saw Damon before him—firm, upright, his body vibrating with energy.
The scrawny boy from months ago had disappeared.
What stood before him now was a warrior.
Broad chest, right arm covered in fine scars, and his gaze—cold, focused, sharp as a blade. Damon breathed slowly, vapor escaping from his lips in white clouds. The air around him trembled with the cold mana emanating from his body.
Caerth raised his sword, spinning it between his fingers. A slight, almost imperceptible smile appeared on his face.
