The white light gathered along Xun’s sword until it covered the metal edge. His stance shifted. He held the weapon with both hands and breathed out once, slowly.
The first strike crossed the basin in a flat arc. It was faster than the shield team could turn its boards. Yan stepped into its path and raised his reinforced forearms.
The impact hit like a wall. It threw him across the salt crust. His boots tore two lines in the ground, and the force ripped a strip from his outer armor. A shallow cut opened beneath his sleeve. The strike ended in the air behind him, leaving a white trail over the basin.
The wake of it reached the shield line a breath later. Boards bucked in their straps. One soldier stumbled back, and the man beside him caught his elbow before he fell. The shield captain shouted for the rear rank to brace, but no one left the line.
Yan heard the boards rattle as he slid. The white trail had passed above the stakes and continued into the open basin. It had not drawn power from the soldiers. Xun alone had spent the years that filled the strike.
Yan rolled onto one knee. The damage from Ashen Marrow had reversed into stronger channels and new vigor. He felt the gain settle through his arms and laughed at the exhilaration of it. His skin still stung where the outside force had cut him, but he was on his feet.
