"Well now…" she whispered more so to herself than Quinlan while cracking her neck. "You're finally giving me some trouble without having to rely on the element of surprise to kick me in the behind."
Without waiting for a response, her foot lashed out, forming a sweeping arc aimed right at his legs. He leapt above it, wind spiraling beneath his feet. Fire gathered in his limbs as he came down with a falling axe-kick, but she caught it on her forearms, then countered with a shoulder to his gut.
They broke apart.
Then collided again.
Fist to knee. Elbow to side. Palm to jaw.
For the first time, Quinlan was keeping up.
His elements roared—earth bracing his stance, fire powering his limbs, water cooling his burning muscles and sharpening flow, wind guiding his reflexes. He was a tempest, controlled and relentless.
And Serika was slowly getting cornered.
