Lance smiled as well, but there was a trace of something deeper behind it—curiosity, awe, and perhaps even a hint of frustration.
His eyes never left Riley, studying him with increasing seriousness.
Throughout their clash, Lance had unleashed nearly the full extent of his abilities, pushing his swordsmanship to unpredictable levels and summoning techniques that once carved apart ancient enemies.
And yet, Riley had remained unshaken.
Not once had he gone on the offensive. He hadn't even drawn a weapon.
He simply moved, subtly, effortlessly—his responses like flowing water, graceful and unhindered, as though Lance's furious strikes were nothing more than falling leaves brushing past him.
It was humiliating, in a way—but more than that, it was humbling.
Lance felt his heart tremble, not from fear, but from the unmistakable feeling of standing before a mountain whose peak was hidden by clouds.
He had thought himself strong.
