"Asterion, distract it."
"Easy enough," he grumbled, lunging forward. His blade deflected bolts of energy with practiced ease, each strike calculated, precise, and clean. The guardian surged again, its movements growing increasingly desperate, arcs of volatile leyline energy erupting chaotically from its limbs, crackling violently against the stone walls.
Asterion moved with the grace of a seasoned warrior, every footfall placed deliberately, every sword stroke carefully measured. He danced fluidly around the guardian's attacks, anticipating strikes before they came, turning lethal blows into mere grazes. Sweat gleamed at his temples, testament to the exertion and skill required, yet his expression remained steady, focused.
