Wolfgang hesitated for only a second before nodding. Without wasting another moment, he turned and sprinted toward the staircase along his wolves, disappearing into the shadows below.
Now alone, Maverick and the stranger stared at each other, their blades still locked. The stranger's blue eyes glinted with curiosity. "I can tell you're not part of the royal family. So, why risk your life for this?"
Maverick didn't answer. Instead, he pushed forward with all his strength, forcing the stranger to retreat a few steps. Without giving him time to recover, Maverick lunged again, his blade aimed with precision.
The stranger met the attack with ease, wielding his sword with a skillful grace. The corridor filled with the relentless sound of clashing metal, each strike ringing louder than the last.
Their movements were almost like a dance—fluid, calculated, and deadly. The stranger's lips curled into a smirk, clearly enjoying the duel. "Who taught you to wield a blade?" he asked.
