The figure stabilized as it stepped forward, resolution sharpening like a camera lens locking into focus. Its body resembled a humanoid silhouette made of fractured plates, each shifting with tiny, uneven delays, as if every part of it was being rendered a fraction of a second out of sync. The only constant was the light burning in its chest — a brilliant violet core that pulsed with the same rhythm as the rift overhead.
Cain didn't waste time trying to guess whether it could talk. The first guardian hadn't. Nothing born from this tear in reality seemed capable of speech beyond the distorted screeching that passed for intent.
The creature moved first. One blink, and it disappeared.
Cain slid his feet apart and twisted. His instincts were good — the thing reappeared behind him with a silent swipe aimed at the spine. {Eidwyrm} intercepted the blow. Metal shrieked. Sparks spat outward. The force threw Cain back two steps.
"Fast," he muttered.
