The Poet's System

"I won’t hold back. I can always heal you after breaking a few bones," Medora said with a smirk, summoning her sword as flames from her aspect spread throughout the room.

Daylan stood before her, giving a lazy look.

Without hesitation, he extended his hand and conjured a revolver. In the same breath, he pulled the trigger, unloading every bullet at her with a smirk.

Medora dropped to one knee in an instant, clutching her shoulder.

"You can heal yourself too, right?" Daylan teased.

Medora slowly rose to her feet, her smile deepening. "My flames can melt metal now—and I knew you’d pull a cowardly trick like that."

She dropped to one knee and picked up the melted bullets, letting them run through her fingers like water. "Any of your silly tricks that involve metal... including your dagger."

Daylan let out a sigh and began stretching his muscles. He glanced to his right at Asaemon, still lying on the floor with a protective barrier around him, then to his left at Pry, who stood as their officiator.

"Can you two fight already?" Pry snarled before rushing toward Asaemon and slipping into his barrier.

Daylan’s eyes narrowed as he held his stance—and so did Medora. In a flash, he dashed toward her, closing the distance and unleashing a flurry of strikes. He didn’t pause; each blow flowed into the next. Medora stayed sharp, doing nothing more than parrying his attacks with her sword.

Before long, the force behind Daylan’s strikes surged. With each block, Medora was pushed farther back on her feet. In an instant, the flames in the room whirled around them, forming a fiery cyclone—but Daylan didn’t flinch. He was waiting for his Cyclone Knuckle to finish things. Then, out of nowhere, instinct kicked in. He flipped back, creating distance between himself and Medora.