The tendrils, reborn and angrier than before, lunged toward him, slamming into his position. He twisted his body, feeling the rush of air as he narrowly avoided the acidic grasp. Each swipe and dodge was a dance between life and death, and Ty could feel his muscles aching under the strain, every movement a testament to his refusal to give in.
He took a stone stance, channeling a memory that flickered at the edges of his mind—the stance of the flame guard from that first planet he had visited. It was almost nostalgic, the way the memory leaked into his consciousness, despite this not being his original body anymore. When he had consumed the guard's soul, it hadn't just given him power; it had given him techniques, instincts. He let those instincts take over now, trusting in them as he dodged and sliced through the tendrils that sought his life.
