…
Twenty meters.
Reina stopped herding.
She'd been pacing him along the left flank for the entire flight, flickering in and out of visibility, and in the space between one heartbeat and the next she committed. Her camouflage cloak shimmered and dropped as she poured every stat she had into raw speed, twin short swords drawn, closing the gap with the efficiency of a woman who'd been killing mages for longer than most nations had existed.
Fifteen meters.
Isara's voice tore across the sky behind her, raw and ragged with a premonition she couldn't put into words. "He's not panicking! Why isn't he panicking?!"
Ten meters.
Quinlan felt Reina's killing intent lock onto the gap between his shoulder plates where the armor was thinnest. She was faster than him. She knew it. The swords were already angled for the insertion.
Five meters.
He smiled.
Then he ignited.
