Cain ignored him. He darted forward again, blade low. The creature turned, its molten face following the motion—but Cain wasn't aiming for the head. He struck low, burying his blade in the creature's knee.
The explosion ripped through it, shattering the leg completely.
Nebula saw his opening. He reappeared behind the creature in a shimmer of silver and drove a blade of condensed metal straight through its core.
For a second, they had it—the creature shuddered, cracking light spilling from its frame—then it detonated.
Both were thrown apart like ragdolls.
Cain hit a broken ridge, bounced, and rolled. Nebula was worse off, crashing into a fissure and disappearing beneath falling debris.
Silence fell—if such a word still applied beneath the distant rumble of thunder and molten collapse.
Cain forced himself upright, panting hard. His weapon glowed dimly, the runes along its surface flickering from exhaustion.
He scanned the haze. "Nebula—"
