Ryan hated it—loathed it—but he didn't even have time to think. He jerked his head to the side, barely avoiding decapitation, but still, Avtis's blade kissed his neck, leaving a burning, glaring scar.
A fraction of a second later, a devastating slap sent him hurtling as Ryan's teeth cracked on impact, and his vision blurred into darkness for a fleeting moment.
"That's your dodging? Piss-poor, as even century-old fossils knocking on death's door would do better, and what if I had coated my sword with poison? Utter rubbish."
The ever-so-helpful criticism came faster than Ryan could process, and a dozen brutal counters flooded his mind, but he swallowed them all, the memory of past punishments still fresh.
'Having Avtis's hand shoved into my mouth and my tongue ripped out isn't an experience I wish to repeat.'
A whisper slithered into his ear. "Getting distracted in a fight. I thought I taught you better."
Ryan's eyes widened in horror. Too late.
