At the moment of impact, a tiny needle shot from the umbrella under his control, suspending his weight in midair and negating the force of the fall. He landed gracefully, but before he could steady himself—
A skinny white foot shot toward his face.
Instinct kicked in. His right hand snapped up to block the kick.
Boom!
The sheer force shattered his forearm, the bones inside snapping like dry twigs. Yet, even through the pain, his grip tightened around the attacker's leg, and with a powerful yank, he sent them flying several meters back.
A familiar voice reached his ears.
"So you were alive."
Even without hearing the tone, the harmonics on his screen were unmistakable. He knew this voice.
As the dust settled, a small-framed young man came into view—short red hair, oversized glasses, and an ever-defiant stance.
Akron.
