As the torrent of the rain poured heavily, Kael could feel every inch of his muscles coiled up, the cold rain soaking through his tunic and pouring into his warm body.
The sword felt alive in his hand, pulsing with every beat of his heart. In front of him, Commander Rael stood still, his grip on his own blade steady, his eyes burning through the curtain of rain.
Kael lunged again.
This time there was no hesitation — his strike cut through the storm with ruthless precision. Their blades met in a flash of sparks, and the jolt rattled up his arms.
Rael pivoted, using Kael’s momentum against him, and swung low. Kael leapt over the blade, landing hard in the mud with a splash, his boots slipping but not falling.
“You’re fast,” Rael admitted, “but you’re still thinking too much. You could
