Rodney didn't wait for the demons to recover. He leaped from the wall—a twenty-foot drop that should have broken his legs—and landed in a crouch that absorbed the impact through technique rather than just physical resilience.
Before the demons could react to his sudden appearance in their midst, he was moving.
His rapier was a blur. Not metaphorically—literally too fast for normal eyes to track. He moved through the demon ranks like water flowing downhill, following paths of least resistance, finding gaps in armor and formation with preternatural accuracy.
Five demons died in the first three seconds. Clean kills, precise strikes to throats or hearts or eye sockets. His blade found weakness, exploited it, and moved on before bodies had time to fall.
