In an instant, the creature charged. It wasn't a frantic sprint like the other bulls; it was a precise charge, its entire body braced for impact.
Vergil only moved when she was a meter away. A sideways step, fluid as water, and his hand brushed the cow's flank—not to injure her, but to feel the muscular tension as she ran.
She passed straight through, swung her hind legs in the air, and landed facing him, ready for another attack.
Rize, at his side, held the blade to her side, but didn't move without command.
Vergil touched the Yamato's scabbard. "Good speed. Good reading of movement."
The cow snorted, almost as if understanding she was being assessed. Then, without warning, she ran in a zigzag pattern, each change of direction accompanied by a dull thud of her hooves on the ground.
Vergil followed her with his gaze, his fingers relaxed on his sword, but he didn't draw it.
"Master... she's trying to tire you out," Rize said, her tone almost admiring.
