Cassio attacks as if he's decided to end the conversation between our weapons before it can become a definitive answer.
His back foot sinks into the stone. His left hand locks the axis of the haft. His right hand drives the spear forward with his entire body weight behind the motion.
It isn't a sequence, and it isn't a feint to push me into a mistake.
It's a full thrust. Committed down to the last muscle. So heavy the air detonates before the point arrives. The dust between us splits into two parallel lines, and for an instant my body wants nothing more than to throw itself out of the path.
Every Rank D survival instinct I have is screaming at me to evade. To trade ground for life.
But I keep my eyes on the reflection.
