The mass murderer, who the kid calls “Tavon,” is sending chills down my spine.
I’m looking back, and I remember another insolent old man: Ayer Kei. That’s what’s bothering me—the fact that this human’s aura is as strong as it is. As a shape made dark from the dim hallway, red and black fields of tau writhe and condense around him.
The way ahead’s narrow, so I throw the shield I have left in a straight shot at his head!
Tavon slides under it, like I expect him to, and I let go of the shield. From my waistband, I draw a long katana just as he moves in for a strike.
He punches toward the center of my body, I block with a two-handed grip—
His fist shatters my blade, soars through, hits my chest, and I feel a wave of impact drive me back. Humans can’t hit that hard! He’s closing in without
