The chaos of the battlefield blurred around them. Steel clashed against steel, explosions rattled the air, and the cries of warriors echoed through the ruined streets. Amidst the storm of battle, there was only one thing Tyson could focus on.
Blue.
Perched atop a pile of rubble, Blue sat like a statue. His usual intensity was gone, his expression unreadable, almost lost in thought as the battle raged on around him. But Tyson knew better. There was always something simmering beneath the surface with Blue, something that made him one of the deadliest Rogues on the field.
Tyson's breath quickened as he gripped the hilt of his blade, his pulse syncing with the rapid tempo of his heart. The world around him seemed to fade, leaving only the target in his sights. Every step toward Blue felt like crossing an invisible line, and Tyson knew there was no turning back now.
