Caught completely off guard, Albert bent to dodge—but his left shoulder was still slashed without mercy. Blood burst out in a violent rush.
His body lurched, losing its balance, and he tumbled straight off Hayes's back, crashing into the weed-choked ground below and rolling several times.
Agony tore through his shoulder. Albert clenched his teeth, refusing to cry out.
Ford's strike had been brutally heavy. If Albert's reaction had been any slower, half his arm would have been severed.
Even so, he was in terrible shape. The wound was three to four centimeters deep—the sharp, heavy mantis blade had cut straight into his shoulder ligaments.
Albert tried to lift his arm, but every slight tightening of the muscles near his shoulder sent a wave of pain so intense it nearly paralyzed him.
He pressed his other hand firmly against the wound to stop the bleeding.
His powerful regenerative ability kicked in, fresh tissue beginning to grow—but it couldn't restore him instantly.
