The first strike broke the outer stone lip.
Jian saw the pieces fall, judged the force behind them and abandoned the pleasant idea of a short fight.
The commander beyond the service passage had more reserve than he did. Considerably more. The controlled stroke had tested the protection, not spent the attacker’s strength.
Behind Jian, operators were still withdrawing from the exposed return-channel station.
Asta stood at the receiving mark. Bren watched the cramped exit, counting people only when they had actually crossed it. Their work was not to defeat the commander. Their work was to get the last workers clear before the exposed fitting became a destructive path into the staged relay.
Jian set his sword hand inside the narrow defensive line.
“Continue withdrawal.”
The commander stepped into view beyond the broken lip.
