Blocks a knife from Oni Lee

My attention swung back to her, but barely a second later, I felt more than heard someone appear behind me, and as I twisted around and turned to face him, something swung out for my neck, skittering across the surface of my costume like a figure skater over ice. Faint gold sparks flickered in my peripheral vision — my base form’s defensive shield had protected me.

He’d tried to kill me.

I lashed out, more instinct and muscle memory than an intentional response, and planted my fist in his gut with more strength than I really meant to. I had a bare moment, little more than a glimpse, to catch sight of his imposing mask, shaped in the visage of what must have been a Japanese demon, as he doubled over. Then, in between one blink and the next, his body exploded in a shower of grey ash.

Oni Lee. It had to be.