The air between their borders was thick with challenge, an unsaid dare crackling across like a gathering storm. Nyxander's eyes met Centric's, their eyes clashing like thunder and lightning. Beorn and Ken were caught between crossfires, going drenched by sweat, bodies straight as the oppressive atmosphere cut through.
"Since the sparring test has been fixed, why don't you wait till then?" Beorn finally broke the silence, his voice shaking, yet firm. He laid a firm grip on Nyxander's left arm, pulling him to walk away. "Let's go; our shift is almost over."
Nyxander's body didn't move an inch, as firm as a mountain of refusal. He didn't yield under Centric's gaze and said quietly, cool, "Even given the meager interactions we have had so far, even then you should have gained that much-the fact that sometimes I am weak when it comes to the aspect of turning down a challenge.
