Mason's fist met Rhea's light-reinforced palm. The impact sent a crack racing through the plaza floor, splitting the stone in a jagged line that ran ten meters in each direction.
PAM.
Rhea twisted her wrist, redirecting Mason's force, and drove her knee toward his ribs. Mason caught the knee with his free hand, golden veins pulsing along his forearm as his War God bloodline reinforced his grip. He squeezed.
CRACK.
Rhea's eyes widened. Her kneecap had cracked under the pressure. She ripped her leg free, stumbling backward, and Mason didn't let her reset.
He pressed forward, each step heavy enough to leave footprints in solid stone. Solar energy radiated from his body in waves, heating the air around him until it shimmered like a desert mirage. His cellular reconstruction was already working on the cuts across his arms, knitting tissue faster than a normal cultivator could manage.
