[ He’s almost successful at knocking her xiphos away from her. Almost. At the last moment, Pyrrha’s Semblance erupts. A thin magnetic pulse, invisible to the eye, drives her shortsword back into her hand. The whole movement is fluid, seemingly natural; to the outside eye, all she did was reinforce her grip on the weapon. No one will have seen her nearly lose it.
Skipping back, just so, she dances around his kick and then pushes the line altogether. Like a hurricane, like a force without mercy, Pyrrha rushes him. Each blow is precise, methodical, and lightning quick. ]
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Skipping back, just so, she dances around his kick and then pushes the line altogether. Like a hurricane, like a force without mercy, Pyrrha rushes him. Each blow is precise, methodical, and lightning quick. ]