Steve's voice was calm, almost casual, as he muttered the incantation.
And as the final word left his lips, his one-shot dagger extended, gleaming like a predator's fang before it swept outward—aimed directly at the neck of the magic guard.
Ser Ira reacted just in time.
She twisted, narrowly dodging the fatal strike—but not unscathed. The blade grazed her side, carving through flesh just deep enough to spill blood.
A sharp hiss escaped her lips as crimson splattered, but the wound wasn't fatal. Still, the realization stung more than the pain.
'Tch... he almost got me.'
Her thoughts raced.
' His sword extended? He nearly took my head clean off.' Eyes narrowing, she studied him, backing away instinctively as her mind reeled.
'How the hell is he even giving me trouble? We're leagues apart… He's not supposed to be this competent in battle.' The unsettling thought chilled her spine.
'Am I... underestimating him?'
