Kael lunged.
His blade scraped against the Construct's thigh. Just a flick, but it was enough to force a shift in its footing. The thing's arms came up again, faster this time—angled tighter.
Kael's heart pounded. His lungs burned. He knew his own rhythm was starting to falter, but he couldn't stop.
Not yet.
The chamber's stone floor was slick with sweat, dust, and his own blood. Every movement now sent pain lancing through his limbs, but it was the kind of pain that sharpened things. Like fire to a blade.
The Construct moved again. Another straight jab. Kael dodged sideways—barely. He stepped into the opening and slashed upward.
Clang!
A blocked hit.
Kael grunted. His arm jarred from the impact, but he twisted his wrist and pulled the blade back before the Construct could grab it.
Its fist flew toward his ribs again.
He dropped to one knee, letting it pass overhead. Then, with his free hand, he punched its kneecap—full force.
Crack!
