The room seemed to close in around them, the atmosphere heavy with Belgaroth's overwhelming presence and the rumbling flames of his aura. But for Isaac, all this slowly faded away, dissolving into the blur of memories. Before him, Akane stood straight, shoulders slightly forward, legs bent in a perfect combat posture. Her breathing was calm, regular, her fists rising gently, maintaining a perfectly mastered guard.
It was no longer the slave with empty eyes that he saw. It was the warrior she had been, that indomitable fighter he had observed from the stands, that living flame in the arena, defying monsters and gladiators with deadly grace.
Isaac clenched his fists, holding back a shiver that ran down his spine. I cannot hit her... he thought, but deep down, he knew he would have no choice.
- "Isaac, focus," whispered Naesha behind him, her voice low and tense.
