When Shahin opened his eyes, he realized he was still alive. The fatal strike had not come. Instead, Riga lay sprawled on the ground, his chest caved in. He coughed violently, blood spilling from his mouth as he collapsed onto his side, his face pale and twisted in agony.
A booming voice cut through the silence.
"Looks like I showed up just in time!"
Shahin turned toward the voice, recognizing it but unable to place it in his weakened state. Sweat blurred his vision, and he wiped it away with a trembling hand.
"It's me, kid!" Averkane's familiar voice rang out warmly. "A little later, and you'd have been toast, huh?"
Shahin glanced at Riga's motionless form and, after a long pause, muttered, "Don't call me kid…"
His heartbeat slowed, his breathing steadied, and even his bleeding seemed to lessen. With great effort, he rose to his feet, and though he was far from unscathed, he could move again.
