The Breaking Point

Evelyn exhaled sharply, centering herself. The masked warrior circled her, their movements fluid, effortless. Each clash of steel echoed in the chaos of battle around them, but to Evelyn, everything else had faded away. It was just the two of them, locked in a deadly dance.

Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword. She had to end this.

The warrior struck first, a feint followed by a rapid thrust. Evelyn barely managed to deflect it, the force sending a jolt up her arm. The masked figure was relentless, pressing forward with a series of unpredictable attacks that left her struggling to keep up.

She gritted her teeth. She couldn't keep fighting defensively. She had to take a risk.

Feigning fatigue, Evelyn allowed her guard to drop slightly. The warrior took the bait, stepping in for what they thought would be the final blow. At the last second, Evelyn twisted, dodging the attack entirely and driving her blade into their side.

A sharp gasp escaped from behind the mask. The warrior stumbled, clutching their wound. Evelyn didn't hesitate—she pressed forward, knocking their weapon aside and slamming them against a nearby tree.

"Who sent you?" she demanded, pressing her blade to their throat.

The warrior chuckled weakly. "You already know the answer."

A flicker of realization dawned in Evelyn's mind. Before she could react, the warrior slammed their elbow into her ribs, forcing her back. They bolted into the darkness, disappearing into the trees before she could recover.

Evelyn cursed under her breath. This wasn't over. Whoever they were, they would be back.

And next time, she would be ready.