Ryker's composure was gone now. Sweat ran down his temple as he came in again, his next slash fast and low, meant to cut across Ivor's legs and end his mobility.
But Soul Sense caught the shift before the strike completed. Ivor noticed more than just the angle of the blade; he saw the slight heaviness in Ryker's movement after the dash, the fraction of delay that followed the explosive burst. Even the boy on the right hesitated for a breath, unsettled by the sudden brutality of the exchange and unsure of when to commit.
That hesitation was enough.
Ivor let Ryker's blade skim past by the width of a finger and stepped through the opening. He drove his sword forward and buried it cleanly into the shoulder of the nearest boy. The steel punched through muscle, and the boy cried out as his arm went slack.
