The Crimson Exarch's vision trembled. His brain slammed against the inside of his skull as the world spun violently around him.
The damage would have been catastrophic if not for the thin shell of Flow-light he had compressed around his head just before the strike landed. Even so, everything felt heavy and blurred, his thoughts echoing sluggishly like ripples across fogged glass.
There was no time to recover.
Tiramisu was already upon him.
Her claw descended like a meteor, cleaving the air with the wrath of the True Depravita of Primal Fury.
His body refused to respond in time—but instinct did. He fired both of his guns, releasing a burst of energy. The blast propelled his body to the side, narrowly avoiding the deadly strike that tore through the air where his head had been.
