A Father's Edge
Harrier pointed his broadsword toward him.
"Clint—"
His voice cut through the dust-filled street like a blade.
He smirked faintly, chest rising in a slow, controlled breath despite the grit and the metallic scent of blood hanging in the air.
"It's been decades. Is this all you've got?"
Clint Zain's jaw tightened.
Steel rang as their weapons met again. The clash echoed down the ruined street, sharp and violent, like thunder cracking against stone. Sparks burst where hammer and blade collided.
Harrier didn't give him a moment.
He stepped forward, boots grinding shattered brick and broken glass beneath his weight. His broadsword came down with brutal force, the muscles of his arm tightening, veins standing out beneath his sleeve as he pushed harder.
Clint grunted as the pressure surged through his arms.
