4
Daemi ducked low under the swinging blade and stepped into a thrust, her weld blade cutting easily through the plate armour of the training dummy and sinking deep into the central wooden pillar that was its trunk. Her blade had struck home in the exact same spot six times now, each thrust driving a little deeper, and the weight of the heavy blades in the dummy’s ‘hands’ were beginning to make the entire structure sway as it waved them back and forth in a futile attempt to slow her down.
Beads of sweat dripped down her forehead, and thin clouds of dust had kicked up into the stale air of the empty gymnasium, blurring the air into a dream-like landscape of shifting shadows. The only sounds were the pads of her feet, the short staccato drums of her blade striking home, and the mechanical
