The Masked Warrior’s Gambit

Evelyn circled the masked warrior, gripping her sword tightly. The battle around them raged on, but in this moment, it felt like only the two of them existed. The enemy's stance was poised, unreadable, their curved blade glinting under the pale moonlight.

Without warning, the warrior lunged. Evelyn barely managed to sidestep, their blade slicing a lock of her hair as she twisted away. She countered with a downward strike, but her opponent was quick, meeting her attack with a parry that sent vibrations up her arm.

"Impressive," the warrior mused, voice distorted by the mask. "But not enough."

They moved like a phantom, slipping through the battlefield with unnatural grace. Evelyn's instincts screamed at her—this was no ordinary foe. Whoever they were, they had been trained in a style unlike any she had ever faced before.

Kael and Lysara continued their assault on the remaining ambushers, but Evelyn couldn't spare them a glance. One mistake against this opponent would be her last.

The warrior feinted left before spinning low, sweeping at Evelyn's legs. She jumped just in time, twisting mid-air to slash at their exposed side. Metal met flesh—a shallow wound, but a wound nonetheless.

The warrior laughed, retreating a step. "So, the commander has fangs."

Evelyn didn't answer. She adjusted her grip, preparing for the next exchange. The enemy was toying with her, testing her limits.

But she had no intention of playing their game. She would end this now.