'Bearing.'
Ilyshkara had told him what she knew about Bourn's will, and now he was witnessing it firsthand.
Bearing.
The power to bear any burden.
Right now, he was bearing every bit of damage Atticus had inflicted upon him, even his will, and turning it into fuel. Every attack he received made him faster. Stronger.
The more his burdens accumulated, the more powerful he became. In a prolonged battle, Atticus was at a disadvantage.
"Shared Burden."
Atticus' eyes narrowed. A sudden weakness washed over him. His strength, his speed… everything. It felt as though it was being dragged away.
Bourn appeared above him, his weapon descending. Atticus' blade flashed upward to meet it.
Boom!
The impact sent Atticus skidding backward, two trenches tearing across the wasteland in his wake. He eventually came to a stop and looked up at the slowly descending Bourn.
There was something different in those previously unmoved eyes. Contempt. He was looking down on him.
