"Do you have arms fucking made of straw? They're so delicate," Dallas taunted, unleashing a rapid series of strikes at Cassian. Fortunately for him, each blow landed against his sword, but only because she aimed there intentionally; if she'd wanted to, she could have sliced his arms to ribbons by now.
Still, the force behind her attacks was brutal. Each impact sent bone-rattling vibrations through Cassian's arms, his grip weakening with every strike. Finally, unable to hold on any longer, his trembling hands let the sword slip from his grasp. He stood there, arms shaking, hands bruised and bloodied.
"Weakling," Dallas spat, seeing him unarmed. But inwardly, she was surprised, admitting to herself, 'He held on longer than I expected.'
