(55)
Nestra’s parry flowed into a slice, then a thrust immediately after. Her footwork was a blur, each step preparing the next in a chain of mighty blows. She was on edge. A counter would come any time.
Shinran’s training facility had an uncanny ability to give her exactly what she asked for, and then make her regret every last second of it. The foe facing her was the defensive duelist she’d asked, yes, and he was technically C-rank yes, but he must have been some genius who’d undergone hellish training because by Riel she couldn’t crack the fucker’s guard open. Not without opening herself to a counter.
The creature was some sort of scaled bastard who gave off a ‘wise turtle mentor’ vibe that was starting to piss her off. He (presumably) fought with a huge cleaver he moved conservatively, but also had a quirk of physiology that allowed him to block with bone ridges protruding from his shoulders. She was far more dexterous and yet every attack was blocked. Sometimes, he would counter with a massive blow that had propelled her backwards the first time.
This was the training world. It was here to challenge her every time.
“It’s ok,” she told the illusion. “I need to manage the Aszhii hubris anyway. I totally want to be humiliated on occasion.”
Another series of strikes. She narrowed her range of motions. Most of the time, her stupid strength allowed her to destabilize her foes but here the fucking turtle dude might as well have been made of condensed lead so fuck it. Speed it was.
Using Precision, she attacked around the creature’s throat. It changed its guard slightly to offset her attacks.
“It reminds me that I am not…”
She bluffed high and struck low, severing a finger. The creature flinched.