The wind whispered through the towering pines, carrying a quiet tension across the frozen expanse. Snowflakes drifted down, settling onto Zarek's shoulders as he steadied his breath.
His stance was firm, eyes locked onto Cain—searching, analyzing. Yet, what he saw left him unsettled.
"His stance… it's full of openings."
Cain stood with a relaxed posture, his sword still strapped to his back. His arms hung loosely at his sides, as if he wasn't even considering drawing his weapon.
"What's with this stance? There are so many chances to strike… Is he that confident? Or is this a trap?"
Zarek's grip tightened around his blade. The moment stretched, the stillness amplifying his doubts.
"I don't know why... but this is quite exciting."
In an instant, Zarek vanished, launching himself toward Cain with lightning speed. His sword weaved through the air, aiming directly for Cain's neck. But just as the blade was about to make contact, Cain disappeared from his sight.
