The three spears streaked through the smoke-choked air like silver lightning, each aimed at a different vital point: throat, heart, and groin. To any other warrior, it would have been a fatal triangulation, a coordinated execution attempt.
But Rex didn't move to dodge. He didn't even flinch.
Instead, he extended his right hand. He didn't grasp the shafts; he seized the space around them.
A micro thin layer of molecular precision telekinesis snapped into existence, creating an invisible cage of force that intercepted all three projectiles mid-flight.
VROOOOM THUD.
The spears stopped dead in midair, millimeters from his mask, frozen in time. They hung there, quivering violently against the unseen barrier, the kinetic energy of the throw still rippling through the wood.
Rex stared at them with the detached, clinical interest of a scientist examining a specimen under a microscope. He analyzed their vectors, their velocity, and the desperation etched into their trajectories.
