Most of the soldiers were already down—some groaning, others unconscious, their weapons scattered like broken promises across the dirt.
Only one man stood tall now.
The one with the black gauntlets.
He cracked his neck, flexing his fists as if they carried the weight of judgment itself.
And Vex?
He was already moving.
CRACK!
The sound echoed as Vex's fist collided with the man's gauntlet—a direct, no-frills punch that flared with green light. The shockwave rippled out, making the nearby foliage sway and dust leap into the air.
The man staggered back, his eyes wide.
But not from pain.
From shock.
"H-How are you able to use my ability?!"
His voice was a growl of disbelief, spit flying from clenched teeth as his boots skidded back across the gravel.
Vex stood tall, grinning.
He could feel it—the pull of mimicry, the echo of power not his but now made so through contact. The artifact was the key, and this bastard had been foolish enough to bring it into striking range.
