A concussive blast of yellow-white holy light erupted in the space between them.
The blast was not large, but it was intensely concentrated. It slammed into Bruce, hitting him directly in the chest and throwing him back for the first time since the fight began.
He cursed, his arm flying up to shield his face, his expression twisting in a new blend of anger and surprise.
The front of his clothes was scorched, his skin beneath burned a nasty red color.
"What was that?" Bruce demanded, his voice pained.
Grace answered. "A grenade. I imbued it with my holy energy beforehand. Honestly, I didn't know how well it would work, but this was a good chance to try it."
Luca did not recognize the word. He understood the result. Bruce was hurt. Wounded.
"I knew someone like you would attack today," Grace continued, her posture calm, her hands empty. "So I prepared. Heavily. I had no intention of entering this battle unready."
