My feet struck the earth like hammers, each impact ringing through the marrow of my bones, propelling me forward like a dragonfly.
The Blade-Type met my charge with a silent groan—mouth open wide, eyes blank and yet focused on me and nothing else. Its arms swung outward in a scissor arc, aiming to cleave my torso in two.
I couldn't stop at this pace and dropped my hips just before colliding.
Its bone blades passed inches over my head, cutting strands of my hair mid-strike. Then I twist my hips, thrusting my spear upward, a reverse thrust that struck beneath its jaw. I felt resistance.
Then a low crack. A blackened ichor started pouring from its split chin.
But it didn't fall.
The red core still pulsed in its chest, faster now—frantic.
It screeched, slamming both arms down. I crossed my spear to block—too late.
The impact sent a jolt through my elbows. My legs buckled, and the road beneath me cracked.
