Rex stood over him, a towering, monolithic silhouette that seemed to blot out the very ceiling of the tunnel. He didn't even look winded; he didn't even look as if he had been in a fight.
He simply loomed, a god of the new world watching a dying relic struggle in the dirt.
Raizen looked up at him from his knee, his face a mask of sweat, grime, and sheer, unadulterated terror. Every breath was a jagged, agonizing victory over the crushing sensation in his chest.
His hands shook as they pressed into the cold stone, and his eyes wide and shimmering with the realization of his own mortality couldn't help but flicker with the instinct to flee from the predator above.
"You were right," Rex said, his voice smooth and terrifyingly calm, as if they were merely concluding a pleasant debate over tea. "About most of it."
