The figure moved.
Fast.
One second he was standing fifteen feet away, the next he was right in front of Liam, his arm already swinging.
Liam barely had time to react.
He shifted his weight to the right, tilting his body just enough that the knife sliced through empty air where his chest had been a moment before.
The figure didn't stop. He pivoted on his left foot, spinning low and coming back with a horizontal slash aimed at Liam's ribs.
Liam brought his own knife up, blocking the attack.
Steel met steel with a sharp clang.
For a split second, they stood there. Blades pressed together. Close enough that Liam could see the figure's eyes—cold, calm, unbothered.
Liam grinned. "You think I'm that easy?"
The figure's lips curved into a smile.
And then something happened.
The force hit Liam like he'd been struck by a car.
It didn't come from the blade.
His own knife jerked violently in his grip, wrenching his entire arm sideways.
