The dust hadn't even settled before Kenji moved.
As the Avatar of Vermis, his speed was no longer biological. He didn't run; he blurred across the crater, his rusted sword-wings snapping shut behind him to provide a jet-like burst of momentum. The jagged executioner's blade came down in a vertical arc, trailing a wake of red mist that hissed as it touched the air.
Hiroshi didn't move his feet. He raised his right arm, and the shadows coating his skin thickened into a jagged, black buckler.
The collision sounded like two tectonic plates grinding together. A shockwave rippled outward, flattening the rubble within thirty feet. The floor beneath Hiroshi's boots cracked, spider-webbing deep into the bedrock, but he didn't buckle. He twisted his wrist, and the shadow buckler grew teeth, snapping shut on Kenji's red blade.
From Hiroshi's left, a flash of gold signaled Marcus's arrival.
