Rex dodged to the side, his bruised hand lunging out to clamp onto the steel shaft of the spear.
But the moment his fingertips brushed the cold metal, the weapon was violently yanked backward with terrifying force, slipping right through his grip before he could seal his palm.
The spearwoman kept Rex strictly at the outermost edge of her killing range.
She didn't waste an ounce of energy on wild, dramatic swings; every single movement was timed and lethal.
Short stabbing thrusts, lightning-fast retractions, crisp lateral sweeps, and flawless footwork constantly reset the distance between them, trapping Rex in a state of defensive guesswork.
Rex gritted his teeth, shifting his weight forward to close the gap.
THRUST.
He ducked sideways, but the spearwoman vanished from his line of sight in a swift blur of motion.
[Instinct]: "LEFT."
Rex violently shifted his torso aside.
