Zahn charged again, his saber raised and his face twisted with anger. Blood still covered his broken nose, staining the front of his grey uniform. The calm, calculating commander from earlier was nowhere to be seen.
Only minutes ago, Zahn had been fighting with the skill and confidence of a man who had spent twenty years mastering the sword. Every movement had been controlled, and every attack had served a purpose.
Now, all he seemed to care about was cutting Holden down.
The saber came around in a wide swing, aimed straight at Holden's upper body. Zahn threw his weight behind it, using his Rank 4 strength to drive the blade forward with enough force to tear through ordinary armor.
But there was no careful setup this time.
No attempt to hide his intentions.
He simply wanted to hit something.
Holden watched the attack approach.
His 10,000x processor had already picked up the movement of Zahn's shoulders, the direction of his saber, and the way his feet shifted as he charged.
