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“It’s been a while, daughter of the Wolf King.”
Zahar’s voice was harsh as he traced the edge of his shamshir. Perhaps it was the impending duel, but his already deep tone carried a killing edge, spreading like a growl. Even the blade in his hand seemed to tremble in anticipation of the blood it would soon taste.
By contrast, his opponent’s expression was utterly still. Leon instinctively activated Rodrick’s Vision as he looked at her. It was the first time he had ever seen one in person.
A beastkin, he thought.
Her face alone was that of a refined, graceful beauty, but the beast’s ears sprouting above her hair proved she was no human. Her legs, from the knees down, were covered in thick fur like a wolf’s, and through the round cutouts in her trousers a lush tail poked out.
Her feet needed no shoes. With tough hide, black fur, and sharp claws, they looked stronger than metal boots.
“Zahar. Has it been five years since you and I fought?” the beastkin champion asked calmly.
“Four years and eight months, to be precise,” he replied, eyes flashing. “I longed to cross blades with you again, but luck kept us apart until today.”
“I feel the same. That draw we had that day—such...
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