The fight escalated from there, turning into a whirlwind of fury. Qwill unleashed a barrage of punches, each one faster than the last, his arms blurring into a storm of blows. I weaved through them, dodging most, taking a few on my guards to feel the burn, to let the pain fuel my act. One grazed my cheek. I retaliated with a spinning kick to his thigh, the impact echoing like thunder. He grunted, leg buckling for a second, but he powered through, grabbing my extended leg and hurling me across the field.
I tumbled through the air, twisting mid-flight to land on my feet, sliding to a stop with a dramatic flourish. The crowd gasped—perfect. I charged back, our bodies colliding in the centre with a force that cracked the air.
We grappled, muscles straining, breaths hot and ragged against each other's faces. His grip was like iron vices, crushing my arms, but I broke free with a headbutt that split his brow. Blood poured into his eyes, but he laughed—actually laughed, the mad bastard.
