First Sword Style: Di Ventaria Sword Waltz
Felicia moves like a whisper through chaos.
Amid the howls of the undead and the clatter of bone against stone, she doesn't charge. She doesn't lunge.
She glides.
Each step is fluid, her body flowing like silk caught in the breeze. Her movements aren't rushed or frantic—they're deliberate, precise, mesmerizing. A rhythm thrums beneath her every motion, invisible but unmistakable, as if the battlefield itself has fallen under the spell of her tempo.
Zombies groan, reaching with decaying arms.
Skeletons slash with chipped, rusted blades.
But she—
She dances.
Her footwork is intricate. Beautiful. Almost theatrical in its artistry.
Each pivot, each half-step, each turn of her ankle falls perfectly in time. Every exhale follows a beat. Every flick of her wrist answers a silent symphony.
This isn't just swordplay.
It's choreography.
A deadly waltz composed of steel, blood, and poise.
