Kaelen stood over him. The tip of his sword was aimed right at Azrael's throat. The hero's face was filled with anger.
"No more talking," Kaelen growled, his voice quiet and full of hate. "No more tricks. This ends now."
'This is it,' Azrael thought, his body screaming in protest. The kick to his stomach had stolen all the air from his lungs. 'I'm done.'
He had no strength left to fight. He had no clever plans left to use. He was empty.
But as Kaelen raised his sword for the final blow, He saw the hero's stance.
The way his weight was all on his back foot, ready to put all his power into the downward thrust. It was a perfect, textbook finishing move. It was also a mistake.
'He thinks he's already won,' Azrael realized.
With the last bit of his will, Azrael's fingers twitched. A single, invisible thread, which he had attached to the hero's boot earlier in the fight, pulled tight.
It was not a strong pull. It was just a tiny tug. A little nudge.
