The C-rank noticed the lump of metal detach from Zion and froze for a split second.
That was all the time Zion needed.
The pressure in the air intensified without warning, slamming down on the C-rank's armor. His breathing hitched as a deep sense of urgency took hold, a cold chill racing down his spine.
'I need to kill him now!' he thought, gritting his teeth as he forced his sword down.
But his arms felt wrong.
They felt heavy and sluggish. Nothing comparable to the strength he'd had moments earlier.
Still, the C-rank pushed through it.
Zion saw the blade coming.
It was as if time slowed down in front of him.
He moved calmly, lifting his left arm and pointing it straight at his opponent.
'Uriel,' he thought. 'Thirty percent.'
[Affirmative.]
His arm lit up in a familiar blue color.
The C-rank's sword didn't miss its target either.
