It didn't even seem as though Cedric was fighting with his full strength.
He moved through every attack with remarkable precision, avoiding blades by the narrowest margin before countering with ruthless efficiency. One soldier clutched his stomach as Cedric's sword pierced straight through him. Another screamed after losing his arm. A third collapsed with blood pouring from a wound across his throat.
Yet Cedric never paused.
"Master..." One of Griswold's remaining men hurried to his side, his breathing ragged as fear filled his face. "We have to leave. It's no longer safe."
Griswold's expression darkened. "I'm not leaving," he answered coldly. "Not until Cedric is mine."
But his confidence was beginning to crack. How was this even possible?
