THE WILL-IMBUED ANGUIS SOLDIER SNARLS as he leaps at me.
There’s no subtlety, no cat-and-mouse here. He covers the twenty feet between us in a single, powerful lunge, fist drawn back. No mistaking his intent.
I’m prepared for the attack and still only barely dive away in time. Climbing up here, some part of me wondered if I had a chance in a straight fight, my victory over the Sextus in Letens in the back of my mind. Now it’s too late, I can see how ridiculous a thought that was. My opponent in the Theatre was barely a fighter, weak for his rank, and even then I only beat him because he decided to ignore me. There’s no crowd here. No distractions.