At that split second before the edge of the broadsword struck, Spark's body swerved out of sight, leaving the blade to strike a phantom.
And in a swift motion, his left arm flew in an arc, aiming for retaliation—but unfortunately, there was nothing.
Spark frowned as he gazed at where his supposed attacker should be, and there was nothing. Only the silent, shadowy streets of the night met his gaze.
Before his mind could wander, his instincts blared their alarm once more. He turned around to see a cloaked figure coming at him with a massive club.
Throwing a heavy swing toward his face, Spark braced both arms in an attempt to guard himself.
Bang!
The impact landed. Thankfully, his opponents knew nothing of him—otherwise, they would have understood that blunt weapons were useless against him.
His legs entrenched themselves deep into the ground, aiming to avoid an uncontrollable backward motion that would leave him vulnerable.
