Grand Chieftain Bruga turned around slowly, his seven-foot bone club resting casually on his broad shoulder.
Dark blood leaked steadily from his knee wound, only to be instantly cauterized by the boiling physical heat radiating from his skin.
"You're fast, boy. You move like a flea," Bruga growled, taking an earth-shaking step forward, his eyes locking onto Sol's slightly trembling stance. "But a flea can bite a bear a hundred times... and the bear only needs to step on the flea once."
Sol wiped the blood from his chin with the back of his hand. His mind, completely unfazed by the physical pain, worked with incredible efficiency.
He didn't answer Bruga.
He tilted his chin slightly, neon-crimson eyes flaring brightly as his mind raced at full capacity, calculating the next move in the chaos of battle.
But before he could act, Bruga lunged forward.
The massive Layer 4 warrior charged like a runaway mountain, the ground cracking beneath each thunderous step.
