Lancet pushed Grace into his feet and sped towards the Demon. It snarled like a rabid dog and came at him, screaming.
Once he was half a pace inside the creature's attack, Lancet took his sword low and raised it high. He executed a clean cut across the creature's forelimb that severed one arm halfway at the elbow.
The Demon howled and twisted, but Lancet was already shifting his weight through the strike. He turned the same movement into a second cut, one that rose diagonally across its chest and split the flesh open in a line from rib to shoulder.
Blood sprayed black-purple across the stone.
The creature staggered, and Lancet saw the opening before it existed. That was the difference now. It wasn't just that he was stronger or faster. But Lancet could now see things in the midst of a battle, things that he couldn't see five days ago.
Recognition. He had cultivated the power to see the next shape of a fight before it fully happened.
