Battle was alive, a living being with a distinct rhythm, like breathing or a heartbeat.
Liam heard it clearly. He felt it on his skin, his closed eyes behind the mask enhancing those sensations. The whistling, the severing of air, the warning his animal instincts rang created a perfect picture in his mind, telling him exactly what was coming, how quickly, and from where.
A mere half step was enough to dodge the descending blade. The sword swung through the air a few centimeters from Liam's nose, continuing to go down, missing him completely.
Other sensations followed. The faint brushing of a shoe against the floor resounded, suggesting a twisting motion. A forceful exhale also reached Liam's ears, together with fabric twisting. He even heard muscle tensing in the background.
The sword had stopped below Liam's waist, but the one wielding it was about to slash horizontally, wanting to cleave him in two. Yet, Liam's foot was already on its handle, delivering a stomp.
