"Decide now." She swung her weapon to the side.
Her scythe moved in a single arc, and the air split open in its path.
A bolt of white lightning broke free from the blade, not striking down or rising up, but shooting straight across.
It closed the distance in less than a blink and struck an old train cabin.
The cabin didn't explode. It didn't crack or buckle. The lightning simply passed through it.
Then a cut appeared.
A straight line, shoulder height, running the full width of the cabin wall.
The metal on both sides started to split apart, peeling back like thin paper in heat. The edges turned bright orange, then red, as they melted.
She lowered the scythe back to her side.
"I don't really want to fight you. But if you keep delaying your answer, I'll be forced to."
Francis didn't answer right away. He turned the situation over in his head first.
That attack was powerful, strong enough to kill him in a single hit. So why was she so determined not to fight?
