A Battle to the Death (2)

Sansa was panting, struggling to recover from the relentless battle.

Feyrith, adjusting to his monstrous form, barely managed to string together proper sentences.

But then, his expression twisted when he looked at me.

He grabbed me by the hair, lifting me up with burning rage in his eyes.

"You… Tell me, what the hell is so funny?"

Even with my bloodied face, my smile never wavered.

Sansa was just as confused.

Our loss was obvious.

But Feyrith couldn't accept it.

He kept shouting, spitting his frustration in my face.

"Answer me, damn it! Look!"

He pointed at himself, still screaming.

"All those brilliant attacks of yours? Already healed. Your strength? It's been fading since the start, and yet you still failed to kill me. Unlike you, I grow stronger with every passing second!"