A man raised his shield and screamed her name. She felt the moment his grip failed. A woman discarded her sword and prayed so hard her voice vanished into a rasp, but she was shot through the head nonetheless.
Lilyanna bowed forward, pressing her forehead to her clasped hands.
"I am getting soft…" she murmured. The words trembled as they left her.
Her gaze lifted again, unwilling to remain ignorant, drawn back to the streets of Iskaris.
The figure in black still hovered there, calm and methodical. Water bullets formed once more at his back, answering his call, then were launched with such brutal speeds that most had no hopes of even noticing the change, let alone reacting in time.
Lilyanna also felt his emotional state. There was not even a shred of an emotional rampage. No frenzy, no rage. Just motion, measured, and final.
Her chest tightened.
"I am sorry…" she whispered as the voices faded one by one.
