Apollo moved at the speed of light, and Rex didn't catch him until he was already there.
The first hit was fire—not thrown, but pressed. Apollo's palm was flat against Rex's chest, and the heat surged inward instead of outward, the kind that wasn't concerned about armor or fields or anything designed to block distant attacks.
Rex's field spiked. Apollo was already in motion.
The second strike was physical. An elbow to the side of Rex's jaw, angled upward, the kind of blow that didn't require magic because the geometry was already perfect.
Rex's head snapped back. His field stuttered for precisely the duration Apollo had calculated.
In that moment—the pulse.
It erupted from Apollo's free hand, low and aimed at the center of Rex's stance rather than his body. The shockwave didn't push him back; it pushed the ground out from under him, presenting a different problem entirely, one Rex's field was unprepared for.
Rex hit the rubble.
