As the Hobgoblin's sword neared him, Beam leapt, using it as a springboard. An impossible feat, for true, to accomplish such timing, such precision, when the sharp blade was moving so fast. But Beam's eyes saw it differently. What had gradually slowed over the course of the fight was now entirely still, as the Hobgoblin revealed the full extent of its being and Beam devoured it.
From the new weight on the blade, the creature finally saw through its mistake. Feeling the fear of death overwhelm it, as Beam now stood so close to his neck, his sword shining menacingly in the fading moonlight.
It roared and frantically shook him off, determined to deprive him of his perch, trusting in its own thick hide – that if the boy had no solid ground to swing from, he'd never be able to damage him.
