Raphael's lips curled. "Tired?" He laughed. "I haven't had this much fun in years."
And that was exactly the problem.
The young warlord barely found excitement in a fight anymore.
No one challenged him, no one gave him the thrill he sought.
But now, with Verena forcing him to take her seriously, his blood was roaring.
His instincts screamed at him to push harder, to break through her defenses, to see just how far she could go before she fell.
"You look so pleased with yourself..." Verena lunged, twisting her blade. He dodged, barely.
She almost nicked his cheek.
For a split second, his heart pounded harder.
Interesting, indeed.
His grin widened, his movements faster, his power reckless.
The ground cracked beneath his feet as he surged forward, blade swinging, not with training precision, but with real intent.
Verena barely had time to register the shift in power before the force of the attack sent her skidding backward.
"Too slow," he murmured.
