Ott's eyes widened as his fingers shattered across Theron's armor. His nails were bent back and torn off, his ligaments snapping on impact as his fingers were peeled back no less than their protective shielding had been.
Blood splattered and flesh bloomed like rosy flowers on impact, his hand going from a golden mesh of god-like might to a mangled mess of waning life in a single instant of time.
The shocking reversal was no less abrupt than Theron's battle with Juliax. It was something that Ott had been planning for, waiting on, patiently biding his time against, and yet he was still caught off guard.
He only had himself to blame.
