Earlier, at the last moment, using a complicated "trick," I swapped positions with Tharen. That was how this situation was born.
Mirek died in his hands—sword through the face and out the back.
A result I'd been cooking for a long while now.
More than the death itself, I was planting "doubt" in their hearts.
A creeping uncertainty that maybe... just maybe, they weren't safe even among allies. Doubt leads to hesitation. Hesitation breeds openings. And openings are what I live for—even if they come at great risk.
"Hup...!"
Naturally, I didn't miss Tharen's moment of hesitation.
With a swift twist of my body, I swung my leg—imbued with dense energy—toward his neck. The blade connected, right on target, embedding itself an inch deep.
But that was as far as it got.
Tharen caught my leg, halting it mid-motion, locking me in place.
I had no room to dodge what followed.
