Vincent hit like a vehicle with a grudge.
Elara took the first impact across her guard and let the suit bleed force into the ground. The landing pad cracked under her boots. Pain flared through her forearms, but the bones held and the blade stayed in her hand.
Vincent tried to seize her wrist. Elara turned the hand over, slid free, and cut across his side as she passed. The blade did not bite deep enough. His armor shifted under the edge, hardening along the path of the strike.
"You learned enough from the last fight to keep your hands attached."
"I got tired of losing pieces to people who think a uniform makes them righteous."
He drove both fists into the ground. Squared slabs burst up around her, forcing her back from the open pad and into a rough corridor of stone. Nosey clung to his shoulder, small body stiff, the Ikona's energy pushing through the ground in blocky pulses.
