Time started moving at normal speed once again. The robes were torn and burned by Rufus’s glowing golden sword, the rents revealing metal underneath. The remains of the robes were suddenly shredded as something burst from within, giving Rufus his first look at his attacker’s true form.

The protection Rufus's blade had struck was not external armour, but metal grafted directly into flesh. Steel pushed into skin, heavy bolts using bones for anchor points. It was an abomination of living tissue and cold steel; even its head had plates bolted into the skull. Barely any flesh was visible under all the metal, just the jaw and some patches around the joints. There wasn’t even enough living flesh to tell if it was a man or a woman.

There were four, wholly artificial arms emerging from its back. Long and inhuman, they were articulated at multiple points and were crafted from razor-sharp metal. They ended in oversized hands, each finger tapered to a point like a cluster of spearheads. The arms had been wrapped around the enemy’s body, the source of the bulk under its robes. It was releasing these arms that had torn the robes asunder. The enemy’s natural arms continued to hang limply as their metal equivalents flexed powerfully before stabbing out like spears.

Rank for rank, the only person who could match Rufus’s skill on the battlefield was possibly Danielle Geller. Rufus’s enemy certainly couldn’t, but they were not rank for rank. Now the enemy had given up on hiding its true form, its speed and strength were backed up by powerful abilities and its uncanny metal arms. Rufus’s skill allowed him to barely hold on in the face of a suddenly more powerful enemy, but every moment was a desperate scramble to stay alive.

It was a clash of unsurpassed skill and overwhelming power. Perfectly executed attacks met defences that were no more than adequate, but so powerful that they were up to the task, regardless. What little damage Rufus manage to inflict was quickly guarded by a conjured metal shield. It only occupied one arm, leaving three to attack. The enemy’s other abilities could rapidly repair the grafted armour, or even heal when Rufus’s blade dug into flesh.

Like most humans, many of Rufus’s abilities were special attacks. He used all his skills to maximise their effectiveness, every trick he had. Feinting to land an attack on a blind spot; moving to expose a weakness. The unprecedented threat drew out every scrap of capability. If their advancement as essence users were closer, the bizarre foe would have been utterly outclassed. But this was not the case. There was no escaping the tyranny of rank.