Suddenly, without another warning, he lunged forward. But instead of grabbing Soilandor for a slam, he drove his fist straight into the mummy's gut.
BOOM!
The impact echoed like a drumbeat. A ripple of sand sprayed from the strike, the wrappings of Soilandor fluttering from the force. But the ancient soldier only tilted slightly—his torso absorbing the blow like a dune absorbing a breeze.
Then Elius followed up with a flurry.
Crack! Smash! Smack! BAM!
Fists flew in a brutal, relentless rhythm—his arms blurring into motion, elbows hammering into the ribs, knees slamming into the waist.
A wild left hook met Soilandor's shoulder.
A spinning backhand hit his face.
Then came the rapid-fire jabs to the gut, again and again and again.
Thud. Thump. Thud-thud-thud.
Each punch came faster than the last.
Elius's body was like a human whirlwind—moving, turning, pivoting, flowing from strike to strike.
