Before the titanic beast could obliterate the frontline defensive stance Mary had braced herself into, Ethan sprinted forward. To the wide, terrified eyes of the family, it looked like a suicidal act of sheer panic. He didn't draw the blackened scrap metal from his back; instead, he threw his bare hands directly onto the charging behemoth.
As the beast closed the distance, Ethan ducked beneath the sweep of the lethal, glittering tusks, his fingers wrapping like iron clamps around the bases of the silver horns. Activating the raw, unadulterated density of his physical conditioning, he executed a precise, violent downward twist.
