The moment of hesitation in the enforcer's stance was all Kyle needed to know—this fight could be won.
Still, the stigma-bearing knight didn't falter for long.
Divine light surged through his veins as he raised his blade again, golden symbols glowing down his arms, his movements once more precise and deadly.
The crowd gasped as radiant mana began to pulse visibly around the enforcer, casting an ethereal glow on the shattered ruins of the false temple.
Kyle exhaled slowly, grounding himself. His own mana surged up from his core, not in blinding brilliance, but in weight. Authority.
The kind that came not from prayer, but from blood, sweat, and raw will.
The enforcer charged.
His blade cleaved down with explosive force, the air around them crackling under the divine energy.
Kyle sidestepped just in time, letting the sword slam into the ground beside him, splitting stone with ease.
