A Boring Duel

Northern sighed, stretching his arms lazily. Had Lenn gotten slower since their last encounter, or was it just his own perception of time shifting? The wait felt excruciatingly long.

Then, at that very moment, the sword came down on him.

To an observer, it might have seemed like a sudden strike, but to Northern, time had stretched into imperceptible slivers. He had all the seconds in the world to react.

A simple sidestep was all it took. The blade carved down, biting into the ground with a ferocity that rattled the air.

And in that moment—Lenn was wide open.

It wasn't inexperience. It was pure disbelief. Lenn had not expected Northern to be that fast.

His reaction speed…?

He hadn't even seen the damn boy move.

Northern's leg blurred forward, hurling a devastating kick straight at him—only to stop abruptly, inches from contact.