The Fox dropped from the roof onto the creature's face like a white comet, all claws and tails and feral joy. Six needle-sharp points sank into the creature's jaw and held. The A-Rank screamed again, that frequency-word vibrating through my skeleton, and tried to shake the Fox loose. Soomin's tails wrapped around its horn-like protrusions and locked.
Four seconds.
I planted my feet on the creature's trapezius, raised the bat overhead with both hands, and drove it straight down into the control sigil.
Spatial Cleave. Ember. Every ounce of accumulated Kinetic Absorption buff. Every permanent percentage point Rockstar Made had granted. The Dragon Witch's Ring blazing so hot the metal went white and the air around it combusted. All of it channeled through a point no wider than the bat's end cap, focused on one spot where reality had been carved open and something foreign had been bolted into place.
The sigil shattered.
