Arthur's fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade, his knuckles white with tension.
He had only an instant to register the gleam of the knight's helm—a flash—before the armored figure moved.
The knight's speed defied comprehension. One moment it stood motionless, the next its right hand abandoned the hilt of the blade where it rested, balling into a steel-clad fist that blurred through the space between them. Arthur's muscles tensed to dodge, but his body couldn't match his mind's commands.
The knight's gauntlet drove into Arthur's torso with devastating force, the impact reverberating through his entire being. Air evacuated his lungs in a violent rush as his body folded around the armored fist like paper. For a suspended moment, Arthur hung there, impaled on pain, before the knight's arm extended fully and sent him hurtling across the chamber.
