The woman retreated, surprised by the bite of the cold, but immediately attempted a second thrust. Julian spun on himself, dodging effortlessly, the hostile blade cutting only air.
"So you're Mira. And you, the nervous one?" he asked, his tone still light.
"We're not here to chat, duke's son," growled the second one, Mira, gripping her weapon tightly.
"You're so serious..." he murmured, stepping back gracefully, his smile persisting. "And yet you're far too graceful to fight like this."
He went back on the offensive. His movements were disconcertingly fluid, every gesture precise and economical in aura.
He executed a Frosted Blade Strike, and the blade released a sharp burst of ice that extended several meters. Mira tried to parry, but the attack slipped through, tracing a clean cut along her side.
