Rivyn stood amidst the swirling haze of the white space, his breathing uneven yet steady, his resolve unshaken. The battle had reached a fever pitch, the manticores showing no signs of relenting. Each beast prowled in a loose circle around him, their predatory movements laced with a cunning that sent shivers down the spine of even the most battle-hardened. But Rivyn was past fear—there was only the drive to persevere.
The first manticore ended the stalemate, surging forward with extended claws. Rivyn pivoted on his heel, swinging his great sword in a wide, heavy arc to meet the strike. Steel clashed against claws in a loud din of metallic screech; there was a flurry of sparks as the blade deflected the attack, the jarring recoil pummeling through Rivyn's arms before he steadied and shot a rapid upward slash at it that nicked its jaw.
