Solomon loved fighting as much as he hated admitting being called a battle maniac. From his mercenary days to the academy days, he had fought many types of beings, dead and alive, beasts and humans, males and females.
He had, however, never been in a situation he was now.
Lune capitalized on his distraction. She spun around, wrapping her arms around his neck to execute a complex throw. But her golden hair cascaded directly over his face, blinding his vision.
Solomon could have easily slammed her backward into the dirt. He stubbornly planted his boots to catch her weight and completely abandoned his offensive strategy.
She twisted her waist and dragged him downward. Solomon bent his knees to cushion her fall, refusing to let her crash onto the hard floorboards.
They tumbled into the dirt pit together.
