[  REGRET  ]  for  [Dan Heng]  to  immediately  regret  hurting  [Mydei] // regret because he thought he went too hard on sparring or regret out of knowing mydei can hit back harder? Who's to say
[ Â REGRET Â ] for dan heng to immediately regret hurting mydei.
the spear cuts through flesh with an uncanny precision, its edge honed to a sharpness that only the most meticulously maintained weapons could achieve. mydei recognizes the care behind its craftsmanship, though itâs a weapon unlike anything he has ever encountered on amphoreus. its wielder is just as strange as the spear itself â a stranger who doesnât belong to this world. dan heng, accompanied by the trailblazer, had arrived in the company of phainon, vouched for by the one man mydei trusted most. still, trust did not come easily to him. it never had. when mydei first laid eyes on the pair, his demeanor had been less than inviting. he wasnât the type to freely extend goodwill or faith, no matter the recommendations of others. trust with him was not offered but earned, slowly and painstakingly, like prying a treasure from the depths of a locked chest. it required persistence, time, and a willingness to chip away at the walls he had carefully built. even now, itâs a fragile thing, more like an unspoken agreement than an open-handed offering. that trust, however tenuous, is what allows this sparring match to take place.
mydei does not harbor resentment when exchanging blows, even when the sting of being bested lingers in his mind. sparring is not a battlefield, and being outmatched in a test of skill is not the same as being defeated. if anything, itâs a testament to the progress theyâve made â that he can lower his guard, even slightly, to engage in this way. itâs not exactly friendly, but itâs not hostile either, a subtle indication that trust has been forged in the heat of crossed blades and shared moments.
â not bad. â the sound of his own voice cuts through the air, almost startling him, as he steadies the spear in his grip. itâs a far cry from the intricate craftsmanship of dan hengâs weapon, a simple, unadorned shadow of steel. yet, itâs functional and good enough for a sparring match. the spear spins in his hand, its weight evenly balanced against the metallic claws encasing his fingers, never faltering in his hold. mydeiâs movements are fluid, practiced, a testament to his adaptability rather than reliance on any single skill set. he has never been one to flaunt ornate weaponry. mydei prefers to lean on his innate powers and the raw force of his fists when the situation calls for it. that doesnât mean he lacks proficiency in wielding various arms, far from it. spears are no exception to his versatility, though he would never claim to rival dan hengâs expertise with the weapon. mydei knows his own strength well, but strength alone isnât enough to match the precision and artistry that dan heng brings to the battlefield. still, that disparity doesnât bother him. if anything, it adds to the intrigue of the moment.
if there is even a flicker of regret in dan hengâs eyes, it serves only to stoke the embers of competition as mydei advances. each step he takes is deliberate, heavy against the earth, yet swift enough to close the distance before that hesitation has a chance to dissipate. should his own blood be spilled in the process, a price paid to the nameless who scarred his skin, heâll ensure he claims a measure of satisfaction in return.Â
with a practiced twist, mydeiâs spear spins in his grasp, its momentum carrying it into a fluid lunge that disarms dan heng with precision. perhaps itâs excessive but mydei has never pretended not to enjoy a flourish when the opportunity presents itself. as the clatter of dan hengâs weapon echoes, mydeiâs left hand finds its mark on his opponentâs chest. the shove isnât brutal, but it carries enough force to send dan heng stumbling backward, possibly disoriented.
itâs all the opening mydei needs. the spear arcs through the air in one seamless motion, a gleaming streak that impales the wall behind dan heng. the weapon pins him in place by the scruff of his jacket, the fabric taut against his body. whether the blade grazed his shoulder in the process is inconsequential â such minor injuries will mend quickly. mydei doesnât spare the spear another glance, leaving it embedded in the wall as he straightens, the motion calm, every ounce of his focus now fixed on his opponent.
he strides forward, closing the remaining distance with an air of reclaimed control. when he reaches dan heng, he doesnât rush to reclaim his weapon or deliver another blow. instead, he leans in, his free hand pressing against the wall beside dan hengâs head, his imposing form casting a shadow that envelops the smaller man. the silence that follows feels charged, as though every unspoken challenge between them has found its place in the narrowing space. mydeiâs gaze locks onto dan hengâs, steady, unyielding, and undeniably amused. â every victory should come with a prize, what is it that you have to offer ? â without lingering for much longer, he grabs the spear and pulls it loose from where it had impaled the wall. â something good, i hope. surely someone of your skill would not wish to disappoint their opponent ? â
