But Sol was like an impregnable wall.
He moved around effortlessly, blocking, striking, and disrupting the enemy line.
A kick to the knee shattered one Marauder's leg. A palm strike to the chest sent another flying. He didn't draw his blade yet, his raw physical strength and Layer 2 foundation were more than enough to keep the raiders at bay while the recruits gained distance.
The pass was close.
Seeing that there was considerable difference between recruits and coalition army, he turned and ran at a casual, unhurried pace, as if he were taking a leisurely stroll through the tribe square rather than fleeing from an army.
But of course, he wasn't just silently running, Sol kept taunting coalition forces the entire way, his voice dripping with contempt, each word designed to cut deeper than any blade.
