"Again?!" I was taken aback by her reaction.
Instead of getting angry or shooting needles toward my direction, she was just... she just... wanted me to slap her again?
Is her mind in the right place?
My vision turned back to normal and blood trickling from my eyes blurred everything into a hazy red picture before.
My wounded hand was shaking so violently that I had to shove it into my pocket to hide the tremor. But she didn't care about any of that. She didn't care about the drops falling like tears from my eyes or even the blood that was slowly drenching my pants.
"Yes," she whispered, "Now, when your heart is about to stop, when your vision is failing, when you have every reason to crawl... that is when you truly learn to strike."
She didn't move her arms, but I felt the pressure increase tenfold within the dome. The crimson mist around us began to spin, faster and faster, until it condensed into hundreds of tiny, razor-sharp discs.
