Chapter 63
The moment Ezren finished speaking, two of the enemies vanished again, now moving faster than before.
Blink.
Blink.
Tyce screamed, a raw, choked sound as his arm was crushed mid-block. Not cut. Crushed. One of the attackers had grabbed his forearm mid-formation and twisted it until bone snapped like chalk.
The scream turned into a cough of blood.
Ronan didn't even flinch. He was already in motion.
Boom.
He slammed his heel into the ground, cracked the floor, and shot forward in a flash of speed, faster than before. His mind blurred from the overload of Predator State, but he liked it. Too much.
He wanted more.
His blades curved toward the white-haired man's throat again. This time, the system whispered something new.
Target Combat Memory Locked. Trajectory Adjusted.
The strike landed.
The white-haired man's head jerked sideways, he wasn't cut, neither did the blade puncture him, but he'd been shoved. He didn't bleed yet, but he blinked In surprise.
