Figures out Genesis' projections

And just as effortlessly as I had hacked off Lung’s limbs, I pinned the gargoyle’s foot to the ground.

That should hold it. Even something like that gargoyle would —

Except it didn’t. The gargoyle didn’t seem to care at all about its foot and just tore itself free, mangling it in the process such that it was more like strips of flesh hanging from its ankle.

Warily, I retreated — and dodged a piece of gravel that whizzed past my head like a bullet, when I caught sight of it out of the corner of my eye — and considered my opponent. It was hard to judge, with a face like that, but there was no apparent pain and it didn’t treat the injury gingerly, and — my eyes flickered over to my arrow, embedded in the ground — no blood, either.

No blood? Even a Brute-Changer like Lung had…

Ah. No, that made sense, didn’t it?

I backed even further away as it came after me again, just to give myself enough breathing room, then drew my bowstring back, notched an arrow, and blew its head off in a shower of blocky chunks. The body kept going and tumbled, sliding to a halt at my feet, and then, before my eyes, started to dissolve a moment later, like whatever mold or shell had been holding it together had been broken.

A projection. As I’d thought. Something that had no blood and didn’t feel pain, that wasn’t worried about destroying parts of its body? That was all it could have been. Only high class regenerators like Lung could and would continue to fight, unimpeded even by serious injury, without care.

No one wanted to be crippled, after all.