Xallon's fist descended like a falling meteor, but Lucas wasn't where he was supposed to be.
The human rolled sideways, his broken ribs grinding against each other with audible cracks, but his eyes—his eyes burned with something beyond pain, beyond reason. Something primal had awakened in Lucas, something that recognized only one truth: kill or be killed.
"COME ON!" Lucas roared, his voice raw with desperate fury as he launched himself at Xallon's knee. No lightning this time—just brutal, animalistic determination. His fist connected with Harbinger cartilage, and for the first time, Xallon actually winced.
"Interesting," the three-horn mused, swinging a backhand that should have decapitated Lucas. But the human dropped flat, rolling between Xallon's legs and driving his elbow into the creature's Achilles tendon with every ounce of strength his enhanced physiology could generate.
