Rex wasn't merely engaged in combat; he was dissecting a chaotic symphony of destruction. Neither of them offered him the satisfaction of a reply because they operated like a machine of war.
Gorvasha lunged, her leg executing a low, brutal sweep aimed at his ankles, designed to destabilize him and leave him vulnerable for the kill. Rex remained unflustered.
He stepped over the arc of her leg with a cocky, rhythmic grace, letting the momentum of her sweep carry her past him. As she moved, he drove his elbow downward with the force of a falling hammer, slamming it across the expanse of her back. It was a dirty, efficient strike, designed to use her own forward momentum to amplify the impact, turning her strength against her own spine.
Gorvasha was a goddamn professional. Instead of buckling, she rolled with the blow, converting the jarring impact into a controlled, fluid tumble. She was back on her feet in exactly two seconds, a movement so practiced it was instinctive.
