The air between them was electric.
Aziz moved first, pushing off the polished floor with blinding speed, closing the distance in a single breath. His fist shot toward Grandmaster Nox's chest like a spear, the kind of precision strike that had felled many before.
Nox didn't flinch. With an almost casual tilt of his body, he sidestepped, his hands still clasped behind his back. Aziz's strike hit nothing but air, his momentum carrying him past the Grandmaster.
"From the report it is said they called you Ghost because of your speed," Nox mused, his voice laced with amusement as he pivoted smoothly. "You seem... sluggish."
Aziz gritted his teeth, already spinning on his heel to launch a follow-up attack—a sweeping low kick meant to destabilize Nox's balance. The Grandmaster, however, leaped lightly over the kick as though he weighed nothing at all, landing a few steps away.
