Lugh moved, both of him, honing in on a single target.
His original body surged ahead, faster, lugging the large longsword behind him like it weighed nothing.
Three beastkin immediately converged in front. The others flanked him, executing a pincer movement with predatory precision, their formation like a net closing in.
Lugh didn't stop running.
His second body slowed, raised the revolver, and pulled the trigger.
The gun barked once, spitting smoke and fire, a bullet lodged into the knee of an assailant on the right flank, shattering the joint with a sickening crunch beneath cloth and sinew.
Without losing momentum, his original body swerved to the right, immediately capitalizing on the opening.
The him that had fired tensed its legs, muscles bulging under pressure, and shot off with all its inhumane beastkin speed and strength.
A small shockwave erupted, marble cracked and blasted into pale dust underfoot.
