Velisar's feet struck the ground like clockwork. His martial form was polished, like a blade that had been sharpened with endless hours of training and sadism.
His kicks swirled. Each motion released mercury-tinged spirals that hung briefly in the air, like ghostly ribbons before plunging toward Nocth's skin.
Nocth moved—elegant, precise, like a phantom dancer. The spirals crashed into the soil instead. Where they struck, the ground darkened, sizzled.
"Poisonous," Nocth thought, his body gliding away. "It's in the affinity. He wants to wear me down."
But Velisar was relentless.
"Haaa! Heee! Haaa!" he shrieked with every attack, each more precise than the last. Nocth ducked a mercury-sharp elbow but took a glancing blow to his face. Pain blossomed.
Nocth staggered.
Velisar laughed again, teeth flashing.
Nocth responded—not with words, but with palm strikes. Sharp. Efficient. Drawing blood from both of them.
Velisar licked his lips, red staining his tongue. "Wonderful! You're delicious. The first spark of excitement in this dull district in years! When I'm done with you, you'll beg me to end it."
Silver flared from his vest.
"Let's boost things."
Energy surged.
Four more silveish veins ignited. Artificially forced by his Grade 8 vest, Velisar now held 156 veins—if only temporarily.
Nocth's eyes narrowed. He remembered: Grade Armors could awaken hidden potential in bursts, but only briefly. Forbidden tech for moments of desperation.
Velisar blurred.
A devastating kick slammed into Nocth's side.
Pain screamed through his ribs. Then—a rising knee to his gut.
He dropped.
Almost.
His knees hovered, refusing to touch the ground.
"He's filth," Nocth thought. "Not worth kneeling to."
Veins flared.
From 148 to 153.
A roar echoed in silence. His own spirit.
He surged upward.
Velisar's smug expression shattered.
Crack!
Nocth's headbutt smashed into Velisar's vest. A ripple of destabilization—his unique trait—spread through the armor.
The Grade 8 vest dimmed.
Velisar reeled.
"Wha—"
A fist followed.
Square to the jaw.
Teeth flew. Blood misted. Velisar crashed to the ground like a dead dog, limbs twitching.