When his vision cleared, Moon found himself standing in his apartment.
Before he could even process the familiar surroundings or feel relief at being home, movement exploded from his right.
A rapidly approaching small, snow-white fist came travelling towards him.
Moon's reflexes kicked in instantly. His hand shot up, catching the strike mid-motion, his fingers wrapping around a delicate wrist. The impact still resonated through his palm, making him blink in surprise.
That's a powerful attack, he thought, genuinely impressed. The technique was good, the speed was rapid. Whoever this was had training, real combat experience, and a high level.
Then his brain caught up with what his eyes were seeing.
