The following day, as the sun crested the horizon, casting a golden hue across the open field at the outskirts of the city, dew glistened on the grass, the wind carrying the scent of soil and sweat, and the air thrummed with tension and anticipation. Rusak stood tall, his massive frame coiled with readiness. His mane-like hair was tied back, exposing the sharp determination in his predatory gaze. He was no stranger to battle, but today, he would test himself against the man who had brought him to the edge of death every day for a month.
That man in question stood a short distance away, his arms crossed, calm and composed. His golden eyes shimmered faintly, betraying no emotion, and his towering figure radiated a quiet, overwhelming pressure. Even with his relaxed stance, the difference between them was clear. He was a peak far above Rusak's reach, but Rusak was determined to climb regardless.
The silence was broken only by faint breeze until Lance finally spoke.
"Ready?"
