The hydra lunged, all eight heads surging forward with lethal precision. The air was torn open by the sheer force, and jaws slammed shut with the metallic finality of a bear trap.
Its speed had doubled—no, tripled—since its last strike. One of the Genesis Squad members hesitated, too slow. In that instant, all they saw were rows of teeth, saliva stringing between them as a massive jaw clamped down.
Then the world blinked.
A sound like fabric ripping echoed through the street—dry, high-pitched, wrong. A shockwave slammed outward, rattling loose debris and shivering windows. It didn't come from the sky. It came from the asphalt.
Derek appeared mid-motion, directly between the beast's converging heads.
His swords sparked with lightning, not flowing, but crackling, as if struggling to escape containment.
