The battle raged on as Espada darted between the crumbling remnants of buildings, her scimitar flashing in the moonlight. The Ice Golem roared, its jagged crystalline form towering over her, each step sending shockwaves through the frozen ground. Its enormous claws swiped at her, forcing Espada to twist and roll with practiced agility, narrowly avoiding being cleaved in two.
Breathing heavily, she took a stance, her grip on her scimitar tightening. The beast was resilient; every strike she landed, every deep gash she carved into its icy flesh, seemed to heal almost instantly. The Golem's regenerative abilities were a problem. She had to find a way to shatter it completely—or at least disable whatever was keeping it intact.
