Bast dodges the head butt, and she grunts as she blocks the swing for her side with her arm. She teleports them to the beach, away from people, and she knees him between the legs, then she punches his nose. She plunged her sword into his shoulder with the other hand.
The group leads him to a makeshift indoor fighting ring. Ivy’s on the mat, frowning in concentration, her opponent out cold in front of her. The faint smell of herbs hangs in the air.