Diamantona charged at Rex and swung with a roar in his throat.
A bloody gash split open on Rex's arm as he raised his arm to block it.
He was tired; his body was screaming at him to stop fighting and recover, but there was much room for a counterattack after he blocked the swing—yet he didn't attack. That decision allowed a heavy foot to drill into his stomach, pushing him back.
Rex was the one feeling pain, and Diamantona was the one landing the attack.
But their faces were swapped.
It was Rex who was smiling, and Diamantona whose face turned hideous.
Going feral at what Rex said meant what he said was true. It was true that deep down—Diamantona did not believe that he was the chosen one. It was true that killing everyone around him was not because of the grim future he saw, but because he wanted to kill, and his mind concocted a delusion to appease the truth.
Once the first attack landed, Diamantona basically admitted those things.
And now, there was no turning back.
