That fleeting moment of distraction gave Aaron the perfect opening.
His gaze snapped upward, locking onto the fresh arrow the elf had just loosed from his high perch.
The projectile cut the air with a vicious whistle, silver fletching flashing like a falling star.
In the same heartbeat, one of the black spheres orbiting Aaron shimmered and reshaped.
It stretched and hardened into the sleek, matte form of a handgun, simple, brutal, perfectly balanced in his palm.
He raised it without flourish and squeezed the trigger.
A rapid staccato cracked through the clearing.
Mana bullets erupted in brilliant azure streaks, six of them streaking straight for the elf's forehead in a tight, lethal cluster.
The elf moved like liquid shadow. He twisted mid-perch, body bending at an impossible angle, and flipped backward off the branch.
The bullets punched through empty air, splintering bark and sending wood chips spiraling downward.
