BOOK THREE: ALIEN BETRAYED
Larz clasped the training sword with both hands and swung it in a wide arc around his head, conquering his favorite patch of the Rocky Mountains.
This was the closest a Zyrgin warrior came to the human emotion of joy. The sword fit his hand like an extra limb. His body moving with strength and fluidity gifted to him by generations of the strongest blood on Zyrgin. Still swinging, he moved the sword to his left and then his right hand, increasing his speed until his movements became a blur.