Damien moved but it was not enough.
Not fully.
He moved enough that the horn missed the left chest.
And took the right instead.
The impact was unlike anything in the fight before it.
Not the shoulder graze from the first charge. Not the horn-field discharge. Not the head sweep or the compression trap. This was the horn itself. The full, dense, essence-laden length of it, entering his body through the right side of his chest with the force of the Stormhorn's full weight behind it.
He felt it go in.
Schwaaak!
That was the worst part. The specific, detailed awareness of the intrusion, the way his reinforcement absorbed what it could and failed to absorb the rest, the sensation of the horn reaching depth before the pain caught up with what was happening.
The pain caught up.
He did not make a sound.
What he did was grab the horn.
