In another part of the city, a fierce battle raged on.
Beru and Hela, Charles' loyal maid, clashed with overwhelming intensity, their movements a blur of lethal precision.
Beru's relentless ferocity was evident in every slash of his claws, each strike carrying the weight of his raw power.
Yet, Hela met his assault with equal ruthlessness, her daggers weaving through the air with deadly accuracy, intercepting every attack regardless of the angle.
Their relentless exchange sent shockwaves through the towering skyscraper, each strike tearing through floors as they pursued one another with a singular intent; Destruction.
Attack. Defend. Parry. Dodge.
This was their unyielding rhythm, the cadence of warriors locked in a deadly waltz.
Every strike sang with lethal grace, their weapons slicing through the air like whispers of death.
Each clash was a symphony of precision, a battle composed in the language of steel and blood.
