"You really thought you could beat me?" Freya scoffed, advancing on the wounded Belk, her staff spinning between her fingers in a hypnotic rhythm. The polished wood gleamed under the fractured sunlight, each twirl a silent promise of pain.
Belk clutched his side, blood seeping through his fingers as his gaze flickered toward Godric and Tanaka's brutal clash. The two titans were still locked in combat, though Tanaka's punches were growing sluggish, his strength waning.
"Hey—the fight is here, you brat!" Freya's voice sliced through his thoughts an instant before her staff cracked against his jaw. The impact sent him reeling, his vision swimming as he barely kept his footing.
Before he could recover, she was already raising her weapon again, her knuckles whitening around the iron beam. Her brow furrowed with cold precision as she prepared to deliver the final blow.
Belk shut his eyes, bracing for the inevitable.
Then—a sharp whistle cut through the air.
