The air stung.
Every slash, every clash left behind more than just sparks. It carved pressure into the walls, heat into the stone, and a gnawing tension into Jin's chest that didn't let up. His opponent didn't tire. He didn't flinch. He just kept smiling, like chaos was oxygen and Jin was finally breathing it in.
The weapon lashed out again.
A crack of light, curved like a scythe, split the air from the left.
Jin twisted, pivoting with a grounded heel and letting Muramasa catch the edge at just the right angle—his blade shook, the shock running up his arms, but he didn't let it throw him off.
Too close. Again.
The energy from the strike sang through the floor, rippling through the twisted stone of the maze. Jin gritted his teeth and slid back, forcing himself into a new stance—not one of the forms. Something looser.
