"An opening!" the swordsman thought, his eyes lighting up as he lunged forward, twin swords glinting with intent. Greg's posture had shifted—subtly, almost imperceptibly—but to a veteran like him, it screamed of vulnerability. He thrust his blades toward the exposed gap in Greg's stance.
"What? Impossible?" the swordsman's thoughts froze as quickly as his attack. The opening vanished like mist in sunlight. His blades met only air. Greg's eyes locked with his—calm, confident, mocking. A slow, knowing smile curled on Greg's lips.
Realization hit the swordsman like a boulder. He had been baited.
His stomach churned with humiliation. To be outplayed like this… by Greg of all people. It was an unforgivable disgrace for a proud swordsman like him.
Boom!
A powerful fist crashed into his face, sending him hurtling backward. His nose crunched under the force, blood trailing through the air as his body slammed into the ground.
