The Ravager core hits the floor, rolling under a stool. Varek's grin is a slash of rotten teeth and arrogance. He doesn't see Kael move—no one does.
One moment, Kael stood frozen. The next, his fist cracks into Varek's throat.
The man stumbles, gagging, but recovers faster than expected. He lunges, dagger swinging in a wild arc. Kael ducks, the blade grazing his temple.
Hot blood trickles down his cheek. He doesn't flinch.
Varek swings again. Kael catches his wrist, twists. Bone snaps. The dagger clatters to the floor. Varek roars, swinging his other fist. Kael sidesteps, drives an elbow into the man's ribs.
The crunch is wet, brutal. Varek wheezes, spitting blood.
The tavern erupts. Stools screech as patrons scramble back, forming a ragged circle. Lira perches on the bar, legs swinging, her white eye gleaming.
"Come on, prettyboy!" Varek snarls, clutching his ribs. "Is that all you—"
