Alfred ducked under a sweeping arc of frost and shot forward, his boots kicking up embers. His fists burned—a deep crimson glow crawling up his arms, veins lit like molten steel. He threw a punch that cracked the air like thunder.
Aria met it with a wall of frost, a spiral of ice wrapping her like a cyclone. The punch shattered part of the shield, sent her skidding back, boots scraping across stone. She didn't fall. Just smirked.
"You're still too slow."
Alfred spat smoke. "And you're still cocky."
She spun, hurling a volley of ice daggers. He rolled forward, fire exploding from his shoulders as he launched into the air. The forge's upper frame groaned from the heat blast. He came down like a meteor, fist-first.
Aria met him mid-fall, her body carried upward by a burst of sub-zero wind. Ice and flame collided in a halo of steam and cracked mana.
