The sound of metal hitting against something dense echoed throughout the training room. The head of the Royal Guard, Crimson!Sans, was currently sparring with a wooden training dummy. And winning.

. . .

The strikes with her sword were swift and calculated. She jabbed and sliced, acting as if her life were really in danger. It was her job to protect her lord, and she took that job seriously; she didn't let anything deter her - not war, not invaders, not her prosthetic arm. She was a knight.

Honestly, she was so focused that she didn't hear you approaching her from behind. The poor dummy was practically a pile of twigs at this point.

Tch. . .