Lanlin slowly circles me like a cat who is already enjoying toying with his prey. “I don’t need one. Have you forgotten who I am?”
My mouth dries. “No magic. Keep it fair.”
Lightning fast, Lanlin rushes me, driving me back into a wooden dummy.
I hiss in pain, as my back crashes into the wood.
Lanlin’s mouth is wider than before with snarling, long, razor-sharp fangs. They gnash at me, while he slams his iron-tipped claws into the dummy so close to my head that I feel the whoosh of displaced air.
With my power and magic suppressed, he could have killed me.
It’s fucking thrilling.
I grin back. I haven’t felt this alive for months.
“Who says that I need magic to beat you?” Lanlin murmurs.
“Who says that I will give you the chance?” I arc my daggers up in a move that has gutted more Bloods than I can count.
Lanlin is only just able to wrench his gloves out of the wooden dummy and pull back in time for the daggers to do more than shallowly cut his stomach.
I still grin in vicious victory.
I sniff, scenting the copper tang on the air.
I have scored first blood.
I can tell by the sudden shortness of breath that I have taken Lanlin by surprise.
How long has it been since any soldier has wounded him during sparring?
Lanlin’s eyes glow. He lets out a growl that makes my skin goosebump.
It promises war.
It promises that he is after my blood.
Yet it kindles a fire within me.
My grin widens.
I twirl around the dummy, and Lanlin pursues me in a dark blur. No one has been able to match, let alone exceed, my speed before.
Exhilarated, I lose myself in the battle of wits.
This isn’t about who is the better fighter.
Not being able to see Lanlin, I have to judge the slash of his claws and bite of his fangs by his curling incense scent, the glow of his red eyes, and the flash of sudden movements.
Lanlin is almost impossible to predict.
He doesn’t use planned and predictable orders of attack like when I would fight Ignatius in the Shadow Military Academy. This isn’t fighting learned through drills and training.
It’s a warrior’s soul with moves learned on a battlefield like me.
My dagger becomes stuck in Lanlin’s glove, and before I can yank it out, he slashes me across the chest.
I hiss in pain at the sting of the burn.
