I watched as my sword flew from my grasp, spinning violently through the air like a silver streak cutting across the sky.
It glinted once in the light, flipping end over end, before starting its descent—
Falling toward the hard stone floor of the platform below.
My heart dropped with it.
No—this couldn't be how it ended.
I clenched my teeth and threw my body forward, every nerve in me igniting like fire.
My legs burned as I exploded into a full sprint, the air whipping harshly past my face.
I used every ounce of my speed—every scrap of willpower—to close the distance.
My lungs screamed, and the soles of my feet slammed against the platform with deafening force.
I had to make it..
Being disarmed meant defeat.
It didn't matter how skilled you were, how close you were to turning the tables.
The moment your weapon touched the ground, the battle was over.
The one who disarmed the other would be named the victor, no exceptions.
