Aaron reacted instantly, almost as if out of boredom.
The man's downward strike, fast, powerful, fueled by the raw fury of a galactic-ranked warrior came hurtling toward him like a guillotine blade forged from starlight and rage.
The air around the sword shimmered with compressed force, a faint whistle cutting through the grand building's echoing halls.
Aaron didn't flinch.
He raised one hand in a lazy, almost casual motion, palm open, fingers splayed.
The descending blade met an invisible wall of resistance, his bare skin against enchanted steel and stopped dead.
Metal screeched against an unseen barrier; the impact sent a low, resonant thrum vibrating through the corridor, rattling loose dust from the ornate ceiling.
He closed his fingers around the man's wrist in a vise-like grip, the bones creaking audibly under the pressure.
The warrior's eyes widened in shock, veins bulging along his forearm as he tried, and failed to wrench free.
