(Eldric's POV — Flashback to 31 years ago — Age 46 — Northern Borders of the Eryndor Empire)
Sylphy wrapped her bare fingers around the blade of my greatsword—the very steel currently buried deep in her gut and twisted—and held it firm.
She took a slow, deliberate step backward, sliding the heavy weapon clean out of her stomach. The brutal puncture wound knit together and healed in an absolute instant. She picked up her own weapon from the snow, swinging it once to clear the frost, and looked down at me with those piercing glacial eyes.
"Till then..." she whispered, turning her back to me as if the battle had merely been a pleasant afternoon stroll.
"WAIT!!!" I roared, my voice cracking from the strain as I snapped. "What the hell do you mean, teach me how to kill you?! You came all the way to this border fortress to assassinate me, so just do your goddamn job! Don't fuck with me!!!"
