He attacked again.
The boy came rushing forward like a blur of pink and silver, his wooden staff raised high above his head, the carved serpent at its tip gleaming wickedly in the sun.
Gon's eyes narrowed, every muscle in his body bracing.
There it was again, that snake, slithering unnaturally along the shaft, its eyes like molten gold, its tongue flickering with venomous intent. The creature hissed, fangs bared, coiled and ready to strike.
The sand beneath Gon's boots shifted slightly as he took a step back, his mind already racing. The boy was fast, too fast. His movements had the kind of practiced rhythm that came from endless drills, relentless sparring, and battles fought with no room for hesitation. He was sharp, nimble, and worst of all, clever.
Gon had already tried slipping past his guard earlier, aiming to circle around and slice at his back, but the boy had twisted at just the right moment, parried, danced away, even laughed.
