The assassin’s blade scraped against Seth’s bracers, sparks dancing across the darkened street. The blow was fast—almost too fast. Seth pivoted with it, twisting his body just enough for the edge to miss his throat by a hair’s breadth.
The masked killer didn’t hesitate. Another strike came immediately, low this time, aimed for his ribs.
Seth’s eyes burned crimson as fire snapped to life around his leg. He lashed out.
[Hell Martial Arts — Infernal Crescent Kick].
The clash rang out like metal striking an anvil, the assassin sliding back across the cobblestones, dagger deflected.
“You’re good,” Seth muttered, lowering into a stance. His grin was sharp, mocking. “But not good enough.”
The assassin said nothing. Silent as shadow, they darted forward again, their speed almost supernatural
