So instead of putting your hopes on illusory things or mercy of others. In this cold and cruel reality, it was better for the individual to take things in his own hands and through constant efforts, change his own fate… since most who tried without sufficient strength simply died.
So, without any surprise, Sol's arm blurred slightly.
The Dreadwing Blade left his hand like a thrown spear, spinning once as it crossed thirty meters in the span of an eyeblink. There was no flashy technique, no surge of visible essence, no warning shout.
THUNK
The sapphire blade punched straight through the Layer 3's chest with perfect accuracy, the force of the throw carrying the man backward and pinning him firmly against the stone behind him.
The spear slipped from his fingers. His mouth opened in a silent, unfinished rallying cry. Eyes wide with pure disbelief stared down at the blade buried in his torso.
Sol walked over at the same calm pace he had maintained all along.
