"…I'll know soon enough."
The hooded mercenary's fist hurtled towards Rhys's face with blinding speed. Time seemed to slow as Rhys assessed his options. He could dodge—the punch wasn't really that fast as he could still step to the side to avoid it—but a curiosity flickered through his mind. Instead, he chose to block, his forearm rising to meet the incoming blow.
And following his curiosity seemed to have been the right decision — The impact was staggering. Despite his strength, Rhys found himself airborne, thrown back by the sheer force of the mercenary's punch. His silver eyes reflected the moon above him as he squinted his eyes—a squint; the only outward sign of his shock—as he recovered mid-air, his body twisting with catlike grace.
