warnings: swearing, violence, the writing kinda sounds like its insulting u but i promise it isnt
".. Is this.. Some kind of joke? What are these for?"
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Tartaglia's piercing gaze locked into you, a faint, unsettling smile spreading across his lips. He doesn't speak up a word, but his eyes tell you everything— this is exactly what he lives for. The thrill, the suspense.
In a blink, he charges forward, Hydro blades materializing in his hands, their edges sharp and glistening with deadly intent. You sidestep, narrowly avoiding the strike as his blade whistles through the air, close enough that you can feel the rush of wind. But there's no time to dwell on it; he's already on you again, relentless, like a wave crashing against the shore.
"You can do better than that," he taunts, his voice dripping with excitement. You grit your teeth, summoning your own strength as you lash out, aiming for the narrow opening in his defense. But he parries with ease, his movements fluid and effortless, as if he's already predicted your every move.
Every strike, every dodge, every clash of weapons sends a shiver up your spine. He's powerful—frighteningly so—and there's a hunger in his eyes that makes you feel like prey. You can see the spark of battle in him, the thrill of testing his strength against yours, and it only fuels your determination. You won't back down. Not to him.
He lunges forward, faster than you expect, and you barely manage to bring up your weapon in time to block. The force of his blow sends you skidding backward, your heels digging into the dirt to regain your balance. He laughs, a sound both wild and mocking.
"Is that really all you've got? C'mon, don't hold back now!" His voice is charged with challenge, and it stirs something defiant in you.
You push yourself forward, matching his intensity with your own. You trade blow after blow, every movement sharp and precise, a dance of survival and determination. Sweat beads on your forehead, and your breaths come quicker, but you refuse to let up. Not when he's watching you with that hungry, approving gleam.
For a fleeting moment, you catch a flicker of surprise in his expression as you manage to land a hit, a small cut across his arm. He grins, almost impressed, and your chest tightens with a mix of satisfaction and dread.
