There were battles one could read.
Clashes decipherable through the movement of bodies, the tension in the shoulders, the bend of knees, the eyes of the fighters anticipating the next move. There was a rhythm in those exchanges, a logic, a dance… a form of intuitive understanding.
But what Isaac was watching now...
Wasn't a battle.
It was a storm, frozen in time.
**
The noise never ceased.
An uninterrupted stream of metallic clashes, as if two blades collided with every heartbeat… except here, there were dozens per second. Bursts of mana crackled briefly around Yvan, forming a halo of pure, refined, razor-sharp energy.
The opposing figure… invisible.
Not blurry.
Nonexistent.
But Isaac knew it was there. It existed in the spaces between strikes, in the shadow cast by a blade too fast to see.
Yvan, at the center of chaos, held firm.
He didn't retreat. He didn't move in panic.
He danced.
