Grey Dura 11

“You think you’ve outmaneuvered me,” I said, pressing my index finger down on the head of the striker piece that was now sitting behind the line of my shields, dangerously close to my sentry. “You’ve isolated a weakness and exploited it. Left me with no further actions to take.” Picking up my sentry, I moved it next to the opposing striker. “But I don’t forfeit, Augustine.”

I let my gaze fall heavily on all those nearest to me. “So, strike me down.”

Not even a breath interrupted the silence that followed.

Then the command split the quiet, resounding off the marble walls. “Attack!”

A Dreyl knight lunged forward and thrust his sword at my side. A spike of ice flew at me from behind Augustine, cast by a man in Clarell colors. Then another attack came, and another, and soon I was at the center of a barrage of blows, some magical, others by sword or ax or spear.

But they crashed against the relic armor, which unfolded over my flesh in an instant. I stood, absorbing the brunt of the assault without fighting back. Five seconds passed, then ten. At twenty seconds, there was a lull in the assault as the reality of the situation started to dawn over the knights.

In that moment's hesitation, I fell on them like a silver panther among raptor squirrels.