Cain reached back and rested a hand on Eidwyrm's hilt.
"I give them a choice."
The space between them collapsed.
One moment the figure stood distant and composed. The next, Cain was sliding backward across the road, boots carving trenches through asphalt as force slammed into him without impact. His spine hit a collapsed barrier hard enough to fracture concrete.
He rolled, came up on one knee, and drew Eidwyrm in the same motion.
The blade sang—not loudly, but clearly. The sound of something that remembered violence fondly.
"You mistake tolerance for weakness," the figure said, now closer. "We allowed anomalies while they were manageable."
Cain wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "And now?"
"And now," the figure said, "you are a liability."
It raised one hand.
The world folded.
