Kira stopped dead in her tracks. Her feline eyes widened for a fraction of a second, entirely caught off guard by the sudden, blatant challenge. Then, her lips pulled back into a fierce, competitive snarl.
"I'm saying you've been lying in a bed for three days," Kira shot back, dropping her hand to rest casually on the hilt of her hunting knife. "Your muscles are stiff. Your newly evolved foundation isn't fully synchronized with your physical output yet. If you walked into a real fight right now, you'd trip over your own feet."
"Fascinating theory," Sol purred. He casually unbuckled the heavy scabbard of the Dreadwing Blade from his waist and tossed it to Zeyra. She caught the heavy weapon with a surprised grunt, the sheer weight of it almost pulling her forward into the mud.
Sol cracked his neck, stepping gracefully over the low wooden fence and dropping down into one of the empty, circular dirt sparring rings.
