This doesn't count as resistance; it's just a feeble pounding.
With a deep breath, Percival looked forward. Anonymous climbed up in a sorry state, firing again and igniting sparks on Roger, who casually struck out, slicing off his already twisted arm, which was then flung high and landed to the side.
Anonymous seemed dead, silent.
Absolute power suppressed everyone; this was Roger's playground, where he held absolute dominion.
Immense despair devoured the remnants of life; Percival couldn't think of any chance for victory, intense pain coursing through her body. She suddenly felt that falling here wasn't so bad.
Death didn't seem so unacceptable.
Her thoughts were interrupted.
Something far more terrifying than death played out before Percival's eyes.
Roger casually picked up a soldier who wasn't yet dead. The soldier resisted futilely, his remaining courage annihilated as he cried in agony.
