Bruce materialized beside another towering bronze crab, twisting his body just enough to avoid a blind, desperate pincer swipe. His foot touched the sand for only a fraction of a second, then he lunged, both daggers crossing in a downward X-shaped slash.
Four legs hit the ground instantly, severed cleanly at the joints.
The crab toppled with a heavy thud, kicking up sand as it struggled helplessly. Bruce was already several meters away.
His speed bordered on unreal. To any onlooker, he would appear as nothing more than a streak of black hair and flashing steel. Each time he resurfaced for an instant, a crab would collapse behind him, crippled beyond recovery.
Slash. Move. Slash again.
He struck like a surgeon with the instincts of a predator, cutting only what needed to be cut, wasting nothing, conserving everything. He didn't even break rhythm. Every movement flowed into the next.
A crab lunged at him from the side.
