I suddenly sensed something was aimed at me, or rather yet, was already on me.
The feeling was a raw, instinctual warning system that went beyond sight or sound, something the Domain seemed to amplify.
It was a violation of my space, an incoming foreign object.
It entered the range of my domain.
The moment it crossed that invisible threshold, my body was already moving.
My katana, an extension of my will, swept backwards in a fluid, almost casual arc.
There was no time for a powerful swing, just precise placement.
A loud wood-hit-wood sound resounded, sharp and startling in the training section.
A polished wooden bullet, meant to simulate a sniper's round, dropped to the ground, spinning harmlessly before coming to a rest.
I didn't have time to process the close call.
My arm moved again, my wrist flicking, deflecting another one that came from a different angle. Then another.
The impacts were jarring, sending sharp vibrations up my arm.
