The Calming
The tribal-marked man lunged, fists crackling with energy, each blow sending shockwaves that rattled the ground beneath them. His strikes came fast, but Ty moved faster. His eyes locked onto the man's every movement, anticipating each swing with a calm, measured precision.
Another punch flew toward Ty's chest, the air sizzling with heat. But this time, Ty didn't dodge.
His left hand snapped up, catching the blow mid-air, black flames curling around his wrist as he gripped the man's glowing fist. The force of the hit rippled through the ground, but Ty didn't flinch. His grip tightened, fingers digging into the man's knuckles, the dark fire swallowing the energy that pulsed through the attack.
The tribal-marked man's grin faltered, confusion flashing across his face as his fist remained trapped in Ty's iron grip.
"I thought you'd hit harder," Ty muttered, his voice low and almost bored.