"You're good, but not good enough!" the man shouted, his voice filled with fury as he swung his massive sword at me once again. The sheer force behind his strike pushed me back, and I was forced to take a few steps back in the air to regain my stance. But that small retreat gave him the opening he needed.
Suddenly, small rifts opened in the sky, and icy needles began to rain down on me with terrifying speed and precision. The air shimmered with the cold as the deadly projectiles descended like a hailstorm. I danced through the air, dodging each needle with grace, my body moving fluidly. If anyone had seen me now, they would've thought I was merely performing a bizarre dance, twirling in the air with my scythe. But this wasn't a dance—it was a fight for my life. A battle between fire and ice.
