Looking around, I see that only a few people suffered minor injuries, but the damage to the property is extensive. The shop itself has taken a beating—springs from the machine have torn massive holes in the ceiling.
Lying on the ground amidst the wreckage is none other than Mordrick, his body covered in debris and pierced by several machine components.
I walk toward him, intending to help him up, but my arm is suddenly caught by one of his guards. Before I can react, the guard grabs me by the collar.
"You did this, didn't you?!" he snarls, his face contorted with anger. "You're the reason the young master got hurt! You'll pay for this!"
With a roar, he hurls a punch straight at my face.
Time seems to slow down. His fist moves toward me at a snail's pace.
Fool. Taking out your anger on me? Being kind really sucks sometimes.
Letting out a sigh, I flick my wrist, sending a tiny but precise blood strike slicing through his arm.
