Vmm! Steel flashed; shadows knifed the air; killing intent bit cold.

A shard of winter light blinked— a reaper’s edge caught the sun and flared, gilding the pool, snapping Medith to alert.

Clang—! Almost as the blade arrived, Medith drew her greatsword at light speed and blocked the killing blow.

Shock flickered in the man’s eyes, then force surged in his arms like a storm-fed river.

He had launched from a dark corner, borrowing midair momentum. Even prepared, Medith couldn’t match that crushing stroke.

Clang—! She skidded back more than a meter; before she steadied, an ember-orange longsword scythed down from the sky.

Medith bit down, silver teeth bared; her eyes burst cold, a blade’s glare answering blade.

Thoom—! The longsword fell again; Medith lifted her greatsword two-handed, stance rooted like bedrock, flesh and iron defying a sky-splitting blow.

Crack, crack, crack... Edges ground and sang, dueling like wolves; blades that found their match vented their masters’ rage.

With a raw cry, Medith wrenched up Sip and loosed a shockwave.

The burst snapped fragile trees, lifted a storm of leaves; the lake erupted in towering spray, like lightning slamming down.

Fish and shrimp hurled into the air thrashed midflight; white bellies flipped, many stunned dead before they fell.

Crackle, crackle... splash... Branches and weeds shattered; seconds later the wave died.

The man skidded back several meters, then snatched his ember-orange blade embedded in earth, carving a long, fearsome scar across the grass.

Medith pressed on, a flash of green; she swung a mountain-splitting strike, answering him in kind.

The man reeled, shocked she’d block and flip to offense in a heartbeat.

Panicking, he raised his longsword to mimic her guard, but lacked Medith’s monstrous strength and iron flesh.

Thoom—! The valley boomed; the ground shuddered; waves dimpled the lake like rain under drums.

He held, barely, muscles screaming; his gaze knifed sharp. A prickle ran up Medith’s spine; she slid away.

At once his blade vomited heat, rolling waves of fire; air scorched; weeds around him withered and smoked.

“Hmph! Dog of the Southern Kingdom, you dare ambush a Heavenly Dragon? Name yourself, so I can send your head home.”

She flicked her greatsword; her face iced over; killing intent bristled.

Her gaze cut like steel; green hair stirred without wind— a lone war god standing in a cold gale.

The man steadied his breath; pupils like fire sprites tightened, wary. “Medith Waheit— your reputation is real. That reaction and pressure are rare.”

“But today you die, no doubt. I’m the one sending a head, not you!”

“Less chatter. Name yourself, or I’ll feed you to the fish.” Medith’s greatsword leveled by her face; green eyes flashed cold.

He hesitated, then spoke.

“Fine. As you wish— die knowing.”

“I am Robert, Commander of the Third Division of the Emperor’s strongest corps, [God’s Envoys], under the Southern Kingdom.”

“Tremble. Fear, you ignorant Sprite.”

“Heh. So be it— fight.” Medith wasted no more breath; she dipped and sent a blade flying.