His bodyguards stopped. Turned. Saw their commander on the ground — not dead, not yet, but paralyzed. His eyes were open. His mouth was moving. No sound was coming out.
The bodyguard raised his sword. Charged. Not at Mira — at the air. At the invisible force that had taken his commander. A futile, desperate, 'I-am-a-soldier-and-this-is-all-I-know' gesture.
Mira looked at him.
The man's sword arm separated from his shoulder. Not cut — 'separated.' The blade of mana that did it was invisible, instantaneous, the Infinite Sword Dominion striking without motion, without warning, without the courtesy of being seen.
His arm hit the ground. He looked at it. Looked at the stump. The blood sprayed — then stopped. The blood reversed. Instead of spraying outward, it pulled inward, upward, toward the sphere. The red mist rose from his wound like smoke.
"AAAHH—! MY ARM—! MY—"
His other arm separated. Then his legs. The pieces fell. The blood rose. The bodyguard became four pieces and a mist.
