The Soulers were masters of the flickering retreat. We flashed once, then again, and a third time, blurring across the ruined landscape in a sequence of rapid-fire jumps.
By the time the ten seconds had elapsed and that massive tail slammed into the pavement like a descending meteorite, we were already a hundred meters clear of the impact zone.
The shockwave that followed was a physical entity, a wall of compressed air and pulverized concrete that threatened to shred anything in its path. But just as the roar of the impact threatened to consume us, the silver-white silhouette of my chariot flashed and materialized directly in front of the Soulers' path.
Fwoosh! Fwoosh!
