Gideon had fought more aberrants than he had met people since the apocalypse began.
Every one of them shared the same instinct. Once they chose a target, they pursued it until either they or their prey died.
Even the Verdant Devourer had continued fighting despite suffering fatal wounds.
This queen was different. The moment she realized she could no longer win, she chose to retreat.
She had abandoned pride for survival.
His gaze followed the crimson glow flowing along the edge of the Unbreakable Sword before drifting toward his free hand.
The Pyro coating the blade peeled away on its own, gathering into itself as though guided by instinct.
Within seconds, the familiar crimson sphere hovered above his palm once more, no larger than an apple, yet dense enough to distort the air around it.
Gideon looked at the fleeing queen, then at the tiny sphere.
A grin slowly spread across his face. "I think I've got one last shot."
