The knife was blown off-course, he could see its slightly distorted outline heading out of the stage.
The dread only deepened.
He then diverted back to Streak, who was still dashing at him.
It hit him like a train.
A knife smashed into Alexander's shoulder, under the crowd's gasps.
Blood splattered everywhere, the warm liquid dripped through his clothes.
The white robe quickly turned red, the knife tightly stuck in his shoulder.
The shame was sharp at first, then grew larger. It rivaled the rune on his chest, and the heat in his head.
His body recoiled at the impact, he took a step back.
He pulled my attention to the left on purpose.
Alexander's enraged gaze went back to Streak.
He was nearly upon him.
Rifts bloomed onto the field, half a dozen tendrils slithering like snakes across the stages reaching for Streak's feet.
He jumped over the first, and cut down the second one, only to be smashed by the third one as he tried keeping track of all of them.
