Without even looking, Wit flicked his wrist, sending both the glaive and Quinn's body to the ground as if she weighed nothing.
The motion was dismissive—like tossing away a piece of paper.
She hit the ground hard, unconscious, barely alive.
But that didn't stop her.
Whether it was her will, her augmented body, or a mix of both, she had her last say.
She wouldn't uselessly bow out of the fight like last time!
With trembling hands, Quinn grasped the glaive, wincing as she slowly pulled it out of her body, inch by agonizing inch, blood pooling around the wound.
When she finally yanked it free, a torrent of blood splattered around her, painting the ground in deep red.
Her hands paused, trembling more as the blood loss took its toll, the world around her darkening even further.
She tried to throw the glaive back to Junior, but her strength failed.
